Acceptable Losses
by beamirang
Summary: When the Klingons present evidence of the massacre on Qo'noS, Starfleet has two options: hand over the criminal known as James Kirk, or prepare for war. Post STID.
1. Chapter 1

New story time! I promised I wouldn't keep you waiting long! As usual, this is pretty much finished. It's not quite as long as _Problem_ but should still be a fun ride. There will be angst because I can't not angst, but there will also be a lot more action and craziness. Yes, Jim gets beat up because that's what Jim does, but it's much more of a straight forward h/c than the emotional nastiness of the last story. Explosions, Klingons, spies, lies, and yes, the odd tribble.

Just so everything is nice and clear, the stories that feed into this verse are as follows:

_Genesis_

_Transitions_

_Matterhorn_

_A problem from hell_

You probably need to have read at least _A problem from hell_ to fully understand this one, but it's probably not completely necessary.

And to kick start the fun, Jim, Bones and Spock in tuxedos. Yay!

* * *

ACCEPTABLE LOSSES

_Do not panic. _

Those were the only words circulating in Jim Kirk's head as he stared up in horror at the monstrosity before him.

_Do not panic. You can handle this. This is not the scariest thing you have ever had to do in your life. _

No, no good. He was panicking. "I am _not_ wearing that!" He told Uhura firmly, arms crossed and his best _I Am The Captain_ face on. Apparently his _I Am The Captain_ face was for shit these days because she merely smiled coyly at him and advanced with the type of predatory gleam in her eyes that made Jim sympathize with small fluffy bunnies and other helpless critters.

"You'll wear it, Kirk." Uhura said firmly. "If you know what's good for you."

"I think I want a second opinion." Jim said, in no way backing away rapidly from his Communications Officer. His small, dainty, delicately boned Communications Officer. Who had no right at all to be so utterly terrifying. He turned a desperate eye on the other two members of this horrifying expedition.

Carol Marcus didn't try hide her glee, sliding gracefully over to Uhura and cooing over the tuxedo she was all but throwing at Jim. "Oh but that's lovely!" She said in her soft, charming accent. "It will look wonderful."

"Jo!" Jim yelped. "A little help here!"

Joanna seemed content to just stand and watch him being tortured. "Sorry, Uncle Jim." She giggled.

"Traitor." He hissed at her before turning back to Uhura and taking another hasty step towards the exit. "Why can't I wear my uniform? I want to wear my uniform!"

"It's a black and white ball, Kirk." Uhura said to him with the exaggerated slowness of someone who was questioning the intelligence of the person they were talking to. "Black and white. What color are our uniforms?"

"It's a military ball!" Jim ignored the question.

"It's a charity ball," Carol corrected. "And you really would look quite wonderful in this."

"I'd look like a penguin." Jim protested. "A really uncomfortable penguin." He might have spoken a little louder than intended because his protests won him several amused glances from shoppers and sales assistants alike.

"A cool penguin." Joanna added helpfully. Jim shot her a mock glare that did about as much good as it did when he used it on her father.

"How is this my life?" Jim moaned, grabbing the tuxedo from Uhura's hands and marching towards the changing facilities, his ego trying to maintain itself under her victorious smirk. "You all suck, by the way."

"Make sure you come out and show us." Uhura laughed at his retreating back.

"I hate you." Jim called through the petition.

"Is the shirt the right size?"

"How the hell should I know?" Jim yelled, holding up the shirt, half expecting it to bite him on the nose. Uhura muttered something very unflattering in Orion at him and Jim resisted the urge to respond. Gaila had taught him some awesome Orion insults. She's also been the only person to ever make him go shopping, and then it had been shopping for jeans and casual clothes and the odd pair of leather pants that came out whenever they hit certain clubs around town. Mostly Jim had lived in various Starfleet issue items and had done ever since he'd enlisted. When he'd been needed something he didn't own, he borrowed it from Bones.

He sure as hell had never had to buy a tuxedo before. The last time he'd worn a shirt with a collar had been his school uniform on Tarsus. He wasn't even sure he remembered how to fasten a tie.

"I feel stupid!" He shouted over the partition as he shimmied out of his clothes and into the shirt Uhura had picked out. It had taken nearly an hour just to find it, which made no sense at all. A tux was a tux was a tux.

"You are stupid!" Uhura yelled back.

"I want coffee after this!"

"We'll get you your coffee, Princess."

"That's _Captain Princess!"_ He could hear the fits of giggles Jo was in as he and Uhura bickered and couldn't help but grin. Compared to some of the arguments he'd had with Uhura over the years, this was utterly tame. When they'd both been cadets they had thrown some real zingers at each other.

Bones had claimed it was sexual frustration and Jim had been inclined to agree. He thought she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met, and he knew she found him attractive. Now though, for all that those thoughts still existed, Jim couldn't for the life of him imagine actually sleeping with Uhura, and not even because she was with Spock. They still bantered and bickered and pulled each other's hair, but she felt more like a sister than a potential lover. It was nice, really. He'd never had that with a woman before.

"Stop preening Captain Princess!" Uhura teased him, pulling Jim away from his thoughts and into the tuxedo.

"I still think we should have taken him to a tailors." He heard Carol say.

"Nuh uh. No way. I am not spending half a year's salary on something I'll wear for one night, and I sure as hell am not allowing anyone near my inseam."

"So short sighted." Carol sighed. "I know a wonderful place on Saville Row."

"I'm not going to England just to get a tux, Carol!" Jim fastened the waist of the pressed slacks and slid his arms into the sleeves of the matching jacket. He'd sooner let Scotty pick his wardrobe than admit how soft and comfortable it was. "Okay," he thumbed the lock on the door and stepped out for assessment, "anyone who laughs is getting busted down to Ensign."

Carol and Uhura stared at him.

"Oh come on!" Jim whined. "Do I look that ridiculous?" He tugged at the jacket and fought the urge to shuffle his feet. Why did he even have to go to that stupid ball anyway?

"You look very pretty Uncle Jim." Joanna finally broke the silence.

"Pretty really isn't what I'm going for, JoJo." Jim pouted.

"Well tough." Uhura said. "Now get over here and let me fasten your bowtie."

"Bowtie?" Jim was pretty certain he squeaked. "Why can't I wear a normal tie?"

Carol and Uhura shared a pitying look then ignored his protests completely. "Hold still." Uhura scolded, reaching up to play with his collar.

"Why aren't you bullying Spock?" Jim protested weakly. "This isn't fair!"

"Spock has impeccable taste and already has a tuxedo." Uhura said primly.

"Of course he does." Jim muttered under his breath. "Damn Vulcan. What about Bones? Go bug Bones."

"Daddy already has one." Joanna informed him. "He looks very handsome."

"Hey!" Jim waved an arm in the air. "Why does Bones get to be handsome and I have to be pretty? Not fair."

"It's those baby blues of yours." Uhura grinned at him. "Now stop being a child." She finished her work and herded Jim over to the large mirror.

He looked… well he sure as hell didn't look like himself. He looked poised and dignified and _not pretty_, thank you very much. Smart though, as if he belonged at those fancy dinner parties with their expensive drinks and butler service. He'd cut his hair back into it's usual style and had caught up on a great deal of rest in the eight days since he'd been recovered from Kodos. Bones was force feeding him some disgusting drink filled with all kinds of healthy crap, which helped since his appetite was still as non existent as ever. The tuxedo managed to hide the fact that he'd lost so much weight and he almost felt like a normal human being again.

"I look like a penguin." He said grumpily.

"But a very pretty penguin." Uhura wasn't even trying to hide the fact that she was laughing at him.

Jim spent a moment judging how childish it would be if he stuck his tongue out at her before thinking _screw it_ and going for it.

Once again, the girls ignored him.

"Okay, go get changed." Carol smiled, not quite as obviously amused by Jim's squirming as Uhura. She didn't know him quite well enough to be so at ease with mocking him. "Shoes next."

The door slid closed before Jim could escape. "What's wrong with my shoes?!"

* * *

"This is stupid." Jim grumbled for the hundredth time since entering the hotel.

"Yes Captain." Spock had said equally as many times, not so much humoring Jim as taunting him. Like Jim, he wore a beautifully cut tuxedo, though unlike Jim's it was designed more to reflect Vulcan traditions than human ones. He managed to look utterly at ease, while Jim still maintained he looked like a penguin.

"Stop saying that." Jim protested, grabbing the first glass of champagne that passed him by and downing a hasty gulp.

"Then stop whining." Spock said evenly. "You look like a child."

Jim grumbled under his breath and tried not to tug at the tight collar around his throat. "Why do I even have to be here again?" He protested, spying Bones at the entrance, equally as well attired and equally at ease with his surroundings. He'd always known that Bones came from a very well to do family, Spock also, but it never showed more than when it came to these kind of things. Neither particularly liked attending them, but they could pass an evening by without fidgeting nervously or making a fool out of themselves.

"Because," Spock informed him, "the support of the people in this room will be paramount to the success of tomorrow."

And that right there killed any possible hope Jim had of getting through the night without copious amounts of alcohol.

Tomorrow morning he would be holding a press conference at Command. He'd managed to put it off the entire time he'd been back, but could delay no longer, despite Bones giving very vocal excuses for him.

Tomorrow evening marked the start of unprecedented negotiations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Starfleet had been most adamant that there would be no unresolved scandal hanging over them that might adversely affect the talks, and Jim had been in agreement. Opening up the floor for communication between the two systems of government was paramount to continued prosperity for both, especially in light of growing tensions between themselves and the Romulans. Open war was still a far looming threat, despite what Marcus had believed, but hostilities had been escalating and it was only a matter of time before casualties started clocking up on both sides.

Jim wanted to be at the talks himself, but neither Archer or Bones would clear him for any kind of duty and in truth he was content enough not to really fight for it. He wanted to spend time at home, with family. He'd never had either before and so drank up both greedily.

He had agreed to speak publicly though, which was all he could do to help. The scandal around his life was no less manic now he was back.

"Right." Jim said morosely. "Of course."

The ball was full of very wealthy, influential people, many of who Jim knew from previous Starfleet gatherings. A lot of them had dealings with Carter Winston and were madly scrambling to distance themselves from his legacy, which meant Jim had to get them on his side while they were still floundering.

Politics. He hated politics. This was why he preferred blackmail and bribery. Yes, that said probably very bad things about the kind of person he was, but at least people knew where they stood with him.

"Well now," Bones's accent was out in full thanks to the goblet of burbon in his hand, "don't you scrub up well, darlin'?"

"I hate you." Jim glared at his friend who wore the biggest shit-eating grin ever. "So much hate."

"I told you." Uhura approached, stunning in a sweeping white gown, and slipped her arm though Spock's. "You owe me, Leonard. Do you have any idea how much of a pain shopping with him is? All he did was bitch."

"I'm standing right here!" Jim protested.

"Drink your champagne, Jimmy." Bones smirked at him. Jim did. Begrudgingly. Because he was thirsty. Not because Bones was an asshole.

Bones _was _an asshole.

"Fuck my life." Jim moaned.

* * *

Two glasses of champagne later, and Jim was schmoozing with the best of them. Given what he was there for he couldn't have found a better dance partner, and currently had his arm around the waist of Magda Marlantes, President of the United Federation of Planets and a particularly gifted waltzer.

At just north of fifty, she was considered a young woman to hold such an esteemed office, and her coal dark hair was untouched by silver. Jim respected her as much as he did anyone who had such a demanding position and did a halfway decent job of things. He didn't agree with all her policies, but aside from being a fairly decent woman – for a politician especially – she was also his ultimate Commander in Chief.

"Stop looking so nervous, Kirk." She scolded him as they looped around the room. "You twitch any more and people are going to think I'm doing all kinds of naughty things to you." She had pale green eyes that crinkled with amusement at the thought and Jim couldn't help but laugh. "We don't want any more scandal, do we?"

Jim could just imagine that one. _Captain Kirk seduces President_. Archer would kill him.

"Ah, I could never complete with your beautiful wife."

"Save that charm for the public, Jim." She chuckled. "You've already got me in your corner."

"Even though I got one of your key sponsors killed?" Jim asked, his voice pleasant.

"You exposed a criminal," she corrected him, "and for that I will always be grateful. I can find new sponsors."

Jim had to hand it to her. If she'd had any knowledge of who Carter Winston really was, she played her cards very close to her chest. Jim could easily believe her innocent of all knowledge.

"Of course." He said smoothly. The song ended and they stepped apart. He kissed her hand as was expected and she smiled back, as she should.

"I'll miss you tomorrow." She said as they changed partners. "Negotiations would be far more entertaining with you around."

"Entertaining is one word for it." Jim grinned. She laughed as she started to dance with the Minister of Intergalactic Trade, while Jim glanced up at his next partner.

His smile froze on his face as the woman, his age and utterly radiant in white silk, stepped into his arms. "Hello Jim." She purred, red lips pulled into a seductive smile.

Lenore Karidian had her father's blue eyes and pale blond hair. She also had his batshit crazy. He hadn't seen her in nearly two years and had been thankful for it.

Jim swallowed, fingers clenching on the fabric of her dress. "Len."

Her smile was dangerous and her eyes cool. She ran one slender finger down his neck in a gentle caress. Jim shuddered. They might have been intimate. Very intimate. But they sure as hell had never been gentle with each other.

"What are you doing here, Len?" Jim said, trying to find his brain and not think of her father laying at his feet, his throat ripped open.

"I was invited." Lenore smiled at him and he practically heard the axe swing. "I hear you've been a _very_ busy boy."


	2. Chapter 2

You have no idea how much I angested about the second half of this chapter. Ask L. Burke, she'll tell you. My nails are ruined. I angsted like I've never angsted before. It's such a serious subject and I hope to god I was able to do it justice.

* * *

"One night, Jimmy, just one damn night." McCoy had been thoroughly enjoying his dance with the exquisitely beautiful woman in his arms, right up to the point where he caught a glimpse of Jim across the room and decided once and for all that James Kirk was the _worst_ wingman ever. "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me." McCoy pressed a hasty kiss to her hand and dashed off before he could be pouted at.

He weaved his way through dancing couple, making his path across the room to where Jim had his arms braced on the waist of a very familiar looking young woman. Lenore Karidian was just as striking as she had been when she'd nearly knocked McCoy on his ass. There was nothing unusual at all about seeing Jim wrapped around a beautiful woman – or two- but when the woman in question was the daughter of a maniac who's death they had recently covered up, McCoy felt he could be forgiven a small dash of panic.

Surely she wouldn't start something _here_, with all these people?

Who was he kidding? If there was anyone crazy enough to try commit murder in the middle of a ball filled with the who's who of society, Jim would manage to find, sleep with, then piss her off.

"Did it hurt?" McCoy was just about close enough to hear the words and see the flinch that crossed Jim's face. "Did he suffer? Did you make it slow?"

"Len," Jim said softly, far more pleading than McCoy expected given how hostile Kevin Riley claimed the two of them were, "don't do this to yourself, please."

Lenore's fingers clutched the edges of Jim's jacket as she hung on fiercely. "I want to know." She hissed. "You owe me that much." Her pale blue eyes were heavily lined with black kohl and narrowed in hate.

McCoy stepped in, one hand on Jim's elbow to pull them apart. "I'm sorry ma'am," he said, accent out in full force, "but I'm going to have to borrow the good Captain for a moment."

Jim shot him a grateful look and carefully pealed Lenore away. "You should go home, Len." He said gently. "I'll call you. Now's not the time."

Lenore took a step back, her hands balled into fists. "You owe me." She repeated. "Don't think I'm letting this go. I want to know everything." She shot McCoy a dark glare before turning on her heels and sweeping away gracefully.

"Good timing." Jim said thankfully.

"Do I need to call security?" McCoy asked, pulling Jim over to the side of the room. "Is she going to come after you?"

"Not to kill me," Jim snot him a wry smile, "if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm worried," McCoy grumbled, "that she's the child of a man who proved himself utterly certifiable, and who recently died in rather suspicious circumstances." He wasn't about to say anything more in such a public place.

Jim patted his arm reassuringly. "The only reason she'd come after us for that is because we didn't draw it out enough. Trust me, Bones. As much as I hated him, she went to whole new levels."

"Why?" He couldn't imagine Joanna ever hating him that much. Okay, so he also couldn't imagine slaughtering four thousand people and torturing small children either.

Jim grabbed another drink from a passing server, shooting the girl a smile that could have caused a disaster if the tray she carried had been any more overbalanced. "She was on his list."

McCoy blinked. "What, his '_you are not special enough I'm going to murder you for the greater good'_ list? He put his own _daughter_ on it?" Every time McCoy thought he'd learned the worst about Kodos, he went a learned something new.

"He was fucked in the head. I though we'd already established that." Jim shrugged.

"Damn." McCoy breathed out slowly. "_Damn_. I need something to drink."

"There's free booze everywhere, Bones." Jim rolled his eyes at him, cheeky brat. "Let's get you a brandy and you can go back to dancing with the Venuvian Ambassador's daughter." Jim steered him towards the practically redundant bar at the far end of the room. "How long's it been, anyway?"

"My sex life is none of your damn business." McCoy groused.

"Sex life?" Jim teased. "Since when do you have a sex life?"

McCoy snatched up a brandy from a bar tender who had the grace and professionalism to not start laughing at him the way Jim was.

"I have _no_ life thanks to you, you impossible brat." He said, relishing in the smooth burn of the expensive liquor. "Now go harass Spock, it's his turn to babysit."

Jim threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, yeah, okay. You have fun now. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"There is nothing you wouldn't do. Literally. Nothing."

Jim paused to consider that then grinned at him. "Well then, you should have a fun night! I won't wait up." He gave McCoy an encouraging nudge before heading off in search of Spock.

"Jim," McCoy called after him. Jim turned and shot him a questioning look over his shoulder. "I'll be there. Tomorrow."

Jim smiled at him. "I know." He said, leaving McCoy to his brandy and the coy smile of his former dance partner as she appeared at his side. Goddamn that kid, McCoy thought fondly.

* * *

"Soooooo?" Jim was never more obnoxious than he was when the person he was talking to was a little bit hungover. "How'd it go?"

Jim had left the ball with Spock and Nyota shortly after abandoning McCoy at the bar. Despite all appearances, the night was still the longest he'd been out since his abduction and with an early morning to follow, he'd not wanted to be out late. They'd decided in advance that he'd stay the night at Spock's apartment as it was closer to Command and easier to travel to.

McCoy brought him coffee on his way in, his uniform pressed to the point of discomfort. Jim's immature greeting was at complete odds with the full dress uniform and cap he wore, the ribbons of various medals pinned to his chest. For a man who had not yet been enlisted for a full five years, he had some damned impressive commendations on his person, the most recent of which was a Purple Heart. They'd already given him a Medal of Honor for the Battle of Vulcan.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." McCoy smirked, handing Jim his coffee.

Jim rolled his eyes. "That's no fun." He whined. McCoy let him, knowing exactly how desperate Jim was to distract himself from what he was about to do.

"You don't have to do this." He said, changing the subject abruptly. Jim followed without a beat of hesitation.

"Yeah, I do." He said, mirth quickly being buried under the weight of responsibility that fell on him. McCoy hated it. Jim had learned how to smile and laugh his way through some horrific things, so maintaining levity under stress was something he did with ease, but more and more these days his smile was just a little less bright. McCoy couldn't blame him, but he hated it none the less.

He squeezed Jim's shoulder. "Well come on then," he said, "best not keep the vultures waiting."

They dumped their empty coffee containers and headed across towards the central quad. Jim had no idea what was waiting for him there, and McCoy could sense his head was already in the press conference.

He hid a smile, knowing exactly how Jim was going to react when they rounded the corner and entered the quad.

Sure enough, his steps fumbled and McCoy had to discretely right his balance, a warm smile on his face as Jim took in the sight that had been waiting for him all morning.

Three hundred and thirty seven people had survived the _Enterprise_'s confrontation with Marcus. They all stood in the quad, perfectly assembled, each proudly standing to attention and raising their hands in a salute as Jim arrived.

At the head of the group, Jim's senior Command Crew waited.

After making sure Jim was steady on his feet, McCoy took a step back, moved to attention and saluted his Captain, slightly ashamed to acknowledge that he'd never done so before and desperate to convey his pride in the pain in the ass kid who had come so very far.

Jim's jaw worked as he bit back on his emotions, but McCoy could read them all in his eyes. Jim straightened and returned McCoy's salute, before turning to his entire crew and repeating the gesture.

"At ease." He said softly, warmth and love for the men and women of his crew clearly radiating from every pore. "Did you do this?" He asked Spock as they approached.

"I did not, sir." Spock said. "We cannot go inside with you, but know that we are here. You have our support, Captain."

"Just remember no to cuss too much," Scotty added helpfully, "they tend to frown'o things like that."

Jim's lip twitched. "I'll do my best, thank you Mr Scott."

"Good luck, Captain." Spock wished him

"Pretend they're all naked." Sulu suggested. At Jim's raised eyebrow he hastily added, "or not."

"Thank you." Jim said, his voice thick with sincerity. "I couldn't ask for a more loyal crew."

"We'll be waiting." McCoy promised. "I got a hypo full of Andorian Shingles if they get outta line." It was an old joke between them and Jim smiled in reference to their very first meeting.

"Bones." He said warmly.

With his crew at his back, Jim walked through the quad and into the building, his shoulders straight and his head held high.

* * *

Though they could not sit in on the conference themselves, it was being broadcast Federation wide and displayed prominently on one of the large boards hanging around the quad. In the shadows, McCoy caught a glimpse of Sam Kirk almost hidden from view. Jim had refused to see his brother at all the past week and McCoy hadn't given any thought to where he might have been.

They all watched in silence as Jim took his seat in front of a buzzing room full of people, Archer on one side, Admiral Kentish, the head of Starfleet PR on the other.

When Kentish called for silence, the floor opened for Jim to speak and the entire Federation hung on his every word, no more so than the people who knew him the best.

"Thank you for coming." Jim started politely. "I know you have a lot of questions and I will do my best to answer them as succinctly as possible once we are done." He paused, not a sound from anywhere else in the room, "I want to go on record with something I should have done a long time ago. The rumors are true: I was on Tarsus IV at the time of the massacres."

Despite the significance of his statement, no one said a word. Jim's face was composed and determined as he continued. "What happened there is public knowledge but no one really talks about it. If I'm honest, I didn't want to talk about what happened and I spent a long time running from anyone or anything that might make me. The things that I saw, I wanted to believe had happened to someone else, or hadn't happened at all. I was content to stay silent. To guard my privacy."

He paused again, a shadow passing through his gaze, "I wasn't the only one. Words cannot explain the horrors that took place on Tarsus, and if you weren't there, there is simply no way I could possibly make you understand. So I chose to say nothing. To not talk about it. To convince myself that it never happened. And because of that, because we did not give voice to the thousands of people who died in fear and in pain, we allowed the same tragedy to occur again, this time on Cerberus."

McCoy closed his eyes at the wave of agony that spiked through him. Only Jim could possibly take the blame for what happened there.

The same shadow of grief crossed Jim's face. When he raised his eyes to the crowd, they burned with all the intensity of the sun. "I will not let it happen a third time." He said resolutely. "And that is why I am here, speaking to you now. It is not because you have any right to pry into my life: _you do not_. It is not because I owe you an explanation for my absence, or an excuse for my unconventional rise through the ranks: _I do not._ I am here, speaking to you now because of the one obligation _I do_ have: to those who cannot speak to you themselves, to the four thousand people who never escaped Tarsus IV, and the countless more who will forever bear the scars of their experiences there."

It seemed like the whole world was waiting for Jim's next words. He squared his jaw and raised his chin to the crowd. "My name is James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS _Enterprise _and I was twelve years old when I was sent to Tarsus IV. Now ask your questions."

* * *

Ask they did.

And Jim answered.

For three hours, he talked about Tarsus IV, about Kodos, about Carter Winston and about the harrowing torture he endured both as an adult and as a child. he even talked about the time he spent in jail, though he was very selective in the information he provided on the years between.

McCoy heard very little. He didn't need to. He'd seen it in Jim's head. He dreamed of it at night.

What he did hear, what stayed with him the most and what would for the rest of his life, was Jim's answer to the final question he was asked.

Both he and his audience were exhausted, but his shoulders remained straight and proud, unbowed and unbroken. When they asked him why he had chosen to be so candid about everything he had endured, Jim had responded with quiet resolution.

"Because sometimes things happen to people that they have no control over. Some times people hurt them, badly. Sometimes they manage to find ways of moving on despite it. Sometimes they break and stay broken." His lip twitched into an exhausted half smile and an image McCoy knew would become the media's favorite for a long time coming. "And sometimes…." Jim finished, his eyes clear and bright and open, "sometimes they grow up to Captain starships."


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter is short, likely very confusing, and the last time you're going to see Jim for a bit. Say bye bye, Jim!

Also, you know how I said this one would be less angsty than the last? Totally lying. Enjoy! :p

* * *

Jim's comm buzzed just as Jim was trying to understand exactly what the plot had been in the holo Bones had made him watch. Something about robot sharks?

"Ignore it." McCoy said tiredly, his head lolled back on Jim's couch, his heels propped up against the coffee table.

"Could be important." Jim said absently, equally sprawled and unwilling to move.

"It's midnight." Bones grumbled.

"So probably important." Jim pointed out. It took far more energy than he'd admit to roll off the couch and grab his comm and flip it open.

"Or Scotty got himself arrested again." Bones muttered, half grinning. As Captain, Jim had been the point of contact for more than one member of his crew when they had gotten into trouble on shore leave, but no one more than Scotty.

"So long as there are no strippers involved this time." Jim snorted, positively boring in his old age.

"What is it?" Bones popped open one eye to peer at Jim curiously when a long stretch of silence fell upon them.

"No idea." Jim said truthfully as he studied the message. "Archer wants to see me. He's sending someone over to pick me up."

"What, now?"

"Apparently. Could have something to do with the press conference I guess." Jim was still proud of the fact that he'd made it through the whole thing without swearing, yelling, or punching someone. Clearly he'd gone and matured without noticing.

Bones groaned but obligingly started to sit up. "I'll go wake Jo," He said, rubbing at his eyes.

"Don't be an idiot." Jim rolled his eyes fondly. "You don't have to come with me. It's Starfleet Command, I'm not going to get into any trouble." Bones glared at him. "Okay, well I _could_, but it is highly unlikely."

"Heard that before." Bones snorted but did not push further. To give him his due, for all that hovering was his default mode, he was trying to let Jim be an adult and have his own space. Sometimes, anyway. "Go on then. Get some OJ when you head back. Your replicator is for shit."

"Aye aye Captain." Jim grinned. "Don't stay up all night watching trashy horrors, you know they freak you out."

"Yes _mom_," Bones flopped his head back against the couch and flopped a dismissive arm at Jim, clearly bored with the conversation. "Now go away."

"I'll be back soon." Jim promised. "I know you're going to call Spock as soon as I'm gone. Don't bother. I won't be long."

Bones grunted. That was probably the most Jim would get out of him now unless drugs were added to the equation.

Archer better have decent coffee waiting for him.

* * *

Jim stepped into Archer's office and paused in surprise. "You wanted to see me, sir? Madam President?" He saluted; playing the game, unsure what to make of the grim faces looking back at him from the other side of Archer's desk. Instantly he was wondering what could have happened at the conference to warrant the President's presence in Archer's office. Both Marlentes and Archer should have been off planet.

"Have a seat, Captain." Marlentes said seriously. Jim obliged, but his attention was on Archer and the utterly furious look on his face. Jim had seen Archer mad a fair number of times – had caused it more often than not – but this was something different.

Marlentes circled the desk and plucked a bottle of brandy off Archer's shelf before pouring a glass and passing it to Jim. No coffee then. "Drink." She said. "You're going to need it."

* * *

Jim left the building in a daze. The brandy had not done anything to cushion the blow he'd just taken and his head was still spinning with the implications.

Dawn had started to break but the passage of time seemed utterly incomprehensible.

He needed hail a cab home. Usually he'd have walked, but the press were still out in force and he didn't want to waste the time on something so unimportant.

"Kirk, wait!" Jim picked up his pace, ignoring the voice that called after him. Archer, however, was fast for his age. He caught up with Jim and grabbed him by the arm. "Jesus Kirk, you're in no fit state to be wandering the streets by yourself. Come on."

"You said I had time." Jim protested, suddenly panicking that Archer was going to drag him back inside and not give Jim the twenty-four hours he'd promised. "You said I could-"

"Calm down, Kirk. You still have time. I'm going to take you home." Archer said gruffly.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Archer sounded angry but Jim didn't think it was with him for once. He glanced over at Jim, every single one of his many years of experience lining his face with weariness and grief. "I don't agree with this, you know that?"

Jim nodded. Archer had made it clear, in a very vocal way. "You resigning was a pretty big clue." He said.

Archer huffed. "I'm not about to serve any institution, military, government or otherwise, who stands by what we're asking you to do."

"You should reconsider." Jim said, as he had done in the office. "They'll need you. If this goes down badly." And it probably would. His luck demanded nothing less.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Archer said grimly. He Led Jim to a small parking lot behind the Admiralty offices and a surprisingly sleek vehicle that Jim had termed his late-mid-life-crisis. "You don't have to do this. Despite what she said, she can't make you."

Jim slid into the passenger seat and closed his eyes for a moment. "That's not the point."

"Fuck the point." Archer said with succinct anger. "I'd tell you to stop being a martyr but apparently it's genetic."

"You're a fucking asshole." Jim glared at him. "See, I like how I can say that now you're retired again and I'm back up shit fucking creek."

"Silver linings, kid." Archer said sagely. "Take them where you can find them."

Jim watched the sun rise over the bay as they navigated quiet streets. He loved this city with it's perpetual fog and ridiculous hills. It was the first and only place he had ever stayed in long enough to really get to know. It was his home. "You know what this will do to them, right?" Jim said, swallowing painfully. "It's not just me this is going to affect."

"It never is." Archer looked at him with surprising warmth. "Never has been."

"I've never hurt anyone the way this is going to hurt them." Jim said quietly. That was the problem. Five years ago, hell, five months ago, Jim might not have been so torn. He was a different person now. He had a life, he had a family, and he wanted to keep them both. _Desperately_.

"Will you tell them?"

Jim shook his head. "They'd just try stop me." They'd succeed as well. Even if Bones didn't hypo him to death, if Spock didn't just drop kick his ass into a locked room, they'd beg him not to do it and Jim knew he'd not have the heart to resist. "You have to promise not to let them follow me. Retired or not."

"I'll look out for them." Archer promised. "But they _will_ find out."

"I know they will." Jim wasn't stupid enough to hope for anything other. "Just not in time to do anything about it."

"I doubt that will stop them." Archer said with a note of dry humor. "I saw the shit they pulled trying to get you back from Kodos. In all my years I've never seen a crew so devoted to their Captain." They pulled up outside Jim's apartment. Bones and Jo were upstairs, no doubt making breakfast. "Keeping them from doing something stupid might just tax out the last of me."

But Jim knew he'd do everything in his power to see it done. Archer was that kind of man. Decent, despite the temper.

Jim stared at his reflection in the windscreen and forced himself to remember all the ways he had taught himself to smile, back when he was a teenager. Bones was usually so good at seeing through him, Spock too. Hell, Spock would know something was wrong in an instant, but Jim couldn't go without seeing him again, without saying goodbye, even if the words never crossed his lips.

"Thanks for the ride." Jim said, his thoughts already inside with Bones and Jo.

"You're a good man, Kirk."

"Thought I was a pain in the ass?" Jim tried for levity but his words fell flat.

Archer picked them up anyway. "The two aren't mutually exclusive." He held out a hand and Jim shook it, pleased he wasn't shaking half as much as he feared he might start to. "Twenty three hours." Archer looked so regretful. As if regret made this any better. "What are you going to do with them?"

Jim looked up, finding the window that was his and seeing the lights on inside. "Make them count." He whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

I love all the 'Boo Starfleet' that's going on, as well as calls for Jim to save himself or the crew to save him. Come on now! I've already done both in previous stories! I need to try something new :D

There isn't much in this chapter that warrants angst warnings. Unless you read the previous chapter and know that Jim is the most accomplished liar ever. Then, well, angst. You'll be pleased to know I have installed a new Anti-Tribble defense system around my house: a feline defense system, which promises to be far more fearsome than the puppy. Do your worst!

* * *

"That is an ungodly amount of pancakes, Bones." McCoy looked up to see Jim in the kitchen doorway, still dressed in the same clothes as last night.

"Do I want to know what kept you with Archer all night?" McCoy asked, "Or why you have no OJ?"

Jim blinked in surprise. "Oh. Shit. Sorry Bones." He said sheepishly. "Kinda slipped my mind."

"I guessed." McCoy had replicated coffee, trying not to let on how worried he'd been when he'd woken up from Jim's insanely comfortable couch to find that he was still gone. He'd called Archer's secretary and it was only the reassurance that Jim was still at Command that stopped him from a full blown freakout. "Everything okay?"

Jim rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine."

"So you spent six hours at Command for shits and giggles?" McCoy didn't like the way they could just call and Jim would come running. Okay, fine, so it was his job, but McCoy seemed to be the only person who remembered that Jim was still on medical leave. Short of a military invasion, no one should be bothering Jim for anything.

Actually, _including_ a military invasion, because there _were_ other people enlisted in Starfleet and it wasn't Jim's responsibility to do all their jobs for them. If they wanted to pick Jim's brains about something they should have thought of that before they screwed up so royally with Kodos.

"It's fine." Jim dropped down at the kitchen table and bit his thumbnail absently.

"Bullshit." McCoy snapped. He knew this pattern by now and was sick of Jim taking so much on to his plate. He needed to _rest_, damnit. "What the hell was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"It's a little above your pay grade." Jim said, not unkindly but with a finality that said if McCoy wanted to push the matter things would get ugly real quick. "I've sorted it, you don't need to worry."

"Of course I worry." McCoy huffed. He wanted to know, but he could see the lines at the corners of Jim's eyes and the unconscious curl of his shoulders. Whatever had Jim so worked up, it wasn't worth upsetting him more by harassing him about it. He dropped the subject. "You got plans?"

Jim suddenly lit up. "Yeah. We're taking Jo to the zoo. Like we said we would three years ago."

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind."

"Tough." Jim said firmly. "Jo and I are going. You can tag along and be grumpy or you can come and buy us ice cream. Either way your participation is mandatory."

"Do I get a choice?" McCoy said dryly. In truth there were worst things they could be doing he supposed, and he had promised Jo he'd take her to the zoo so many times only to be thwarted in his efforts. "Fine."

"Jo!" Jim yelled through the apartment. "Come grab breakfast! We're going to the zoo!"

The squeal of delight told him all he needed to know about his daughter's opinion on the matter. "Fine." He huffed. "Now eat your damn pancakes."

* * *

The café was bustling with life forms both human and otherwise. In five hours, it would become one of San Francisco's trendier nightclubs, but while the sun was up it was filled with everyone from young businessmen to aliens fresh out of the black. McCoy and Jim had been visiting almost as long as they had been in the city and the rest of the senior crew had started to frequent when it became clear that the staff and clientele alike were wholly uninterested in how many times they had saved the planet. After a long day being dragged to look at every exotic animal in the quadrant, McCoy appreciated the familiarity.

"You know," Jim slid into the last seat of the overpopulated booth, a tray balanced on one arm, and started to hand out drinks, "when I ordered this multicolored frufru monstrosity the bartender asked if it was for the smoking hot brunette at my table." He winked at Uhura, who rolled her eyes fondly. "I was gonna say yes, until I remembered she drinks her Jack straight." He slid over her tumbler with a grin and handed the aforementioned frufru monstrosity – a drink piled high with both sparklers and mini cocktail umbrellas – to Sulu.

The helmsman shrugged apologetically. "What? I'm a smoking hot brunette."

Jim threw his head back and laughed, spilling half of Chekov's beer. "True, true. Shame on my gender stereotyping."

"You cannot fault yourself, Captain." Spock said in his usual, oh so serious voice. "You have yet to attend the standard seminars that Command would usually send senior officers on in order to educate them on various matters of behavior and etiquette."

"This is very true." Jim mused. "You hear that, Bones? This means I can blame all of those awesome personality defects you think I have on the fact that Starfleet haven't educated me better." McCoy glared at him and snatched his scotch from Jim's hands with an ill-tempered grumble. "Wait," Jim suddenly frowned. "Seminar_s?_ As in plural? As in more than one?"

"That is the definition of 'plural'." Uhura said cheekily. Jim stuck his tongue out at her. Poor Jim. More ass kissing to be done.

As Jim panicked about days spent locked back in classrooms being taught how to play nicely with the other kids, McCoy settled back in the booth, comfortably aware of the conversations that took place around him. Occasionally he joined in, but he, like Jim, seemed content to just spend time with this odd collection of people.

Jim had called and they had all come running, both eager to spend time with Jim, and to investigate his health for themselves.

McCoy was drifting on the good company and almost as satisfying alcohol when his name caught his attention.

"-she thought it was cute!" Uhura giggled. For a woman who liked her drinks strong enough to strip paint, she was a real lightweight.

"What's cute?" McCoy asked, only just paying attention.

"You and Kirk." That got him a grin from the others.

"Why are we cute?" Jim piped up curiously.

"Oh she's convinced Joanna has two daddies." Uhura laughed, clapping her hands together and giving no indication of who 'she' was.

"It is rather unlikely given the complicated nature of the science." Spock mused out loud, causing McCoy to roll his eyes and Jim to clutch at his ribs in silent laughter.

"Bones!" He choked out between giggles, "You cradle robber!"

That was a direct attempt to wind him up and of course it worked. "Cradle robber? I'm six years older than you. Six!"

"And Jo's eight this year, which means I was a sweet, adorable teenager when you knocked me up!" Tears of laughter were streaming down Jim's face, the whiskey in his glass almost drained down to the dregs.

"More like a petulant delinquent." McCoy fired back.

"Nothing changed there then!" Scotty sniggered, ignoring Jim's halfhearted swat.

"You didn't even make an honest woman out of me, you cad." Jim whined, ordering them all another round with a wave of his hand.

"At least you admit you _are_ the woman in this equation." McCoy humped, not at all sure how they ended up talking such nonsense.

Jim looked affronted. "Of course I am. The idea of you with those kind of hormones in your system is, quite frankly, terrifying. You'd have killed someone."

McCoy thought about it for a moment. There had been times when he'd expected Joce to stab him with a kitchen knife or smother him in his sleep with a pillow, so Jim probably wasn't far off the mark.

His silence said everything and the table dissolved into laughter.

"How is she, anyway?" Uhura asked about Jo.

"Joce is staying with her until we get back, she's flying back to Georgia for business in the morning." McCoy explained.

Uhura raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Your ex-wife is watching your daughter in Jim's apartment while you go out?" She leaned over and punched Jim lightly in the arm. "You _are_ the other woman."

"And I didn't even get a honeymoon out of it." Jim said, all pout and sad eyes. McCoy kicked him under the table, immune to his yelp. "And he's mean."

"Oh my god you two are ridiculous." Uhura giggled. "How did I never know this when we studied together?"

"You were too busy trying to grind my balls to make your bread?" Jim shrugged.

"He was a little shit." McCoy said apologetically. "You can't take all the blame."

"She can take some of it!" Jim protested. "Innocent party, here!"

"I caught you having sex in my bed, Kirk." Uhura pointed out.

Jim cringed. "Okay, that was once-"

"Twice."

"Circumstances-"

"_My bed!"_

"You should probably just apologize to the lady." McCoy nudged Jim with his elbow, making Jim spill yet another drink.

"Nope." Jim said stubbornly. "Well, okay, I mean I will for the whole bed thing because yeah, Gaila and I might have got a bit carried away-" Uhura choked on his drink in disbelief but Jim carried on regardless, "-but that's all. Hitting on you was the smartest thing I ever did, drunk _or _sober."

"Oh really?" Uhura chuckled dryly.

"Yes." Jim said, suddenly serious and sounding far less like the happy drunk than he did a moment ago. "Got me here, didn't it?"

McCoy could tell that response shocked her because she didn't respond, just looked at Jim with a slightly stunned expression, then leaned over and pressed a small kiss on the corner of Jim's mouth. It wasn't in the least bit sexual, especially considering that she was practically sat on Spock's lap when she did it, but Jim's answering smile could have powered entire solar systems.

He then broke the silence by grinning his best roguish grin. "You know I'd have guessed your name was Nyota eventually."

And just like that, she was rolling her eyes at him again and the laughter continued.

Spock caught his gaze across the table, his expression placid but his dark eyes troubled.

McCoy sympathized.

They were missing something here.

* * *

McCoy hovered in the doorway, listening fondly as Jim tucked the sheets up to Joanna's chin, following the ritual they had adopted when Jo was very little. Joce had left a few minutes after their arrival and Jo had sleepily demanded goodnight kisses.

"Night Uncle Jim." Joanna sighed sleepily, her cheek pressed against the pillows and her eyes closed.

Jim dropped a kiss to her forehead and stroked her hair back tenderly. "Night sweetheart." He hesitated a moment, his face hidden from McCoy by the shadows of the dark room. "I love you, you know that right?"

"I know." Joanna peeked open her eyes. "Love you too."

"Nothing will ever change that." Jim swore, his voice sounding thick even from across the room. "Nothing. No matter what anyone tells you."

He kissed her forehead again then left the room quickly, almost bumping right into McCoy who was partially hidden by the dark. Jim jumped as their shoulders collided and McCoy caught a glimpse of tears on his cheeks that immediately sent every protective instinct he had into overdrive.

"Jim," He grabbed Jim's arm to keep him from retreating, both into the kitchen and into himself. "What's the matter?" Jim shook his head.

"Nothing," He said gruffly. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit." McCoy said, then softened his tone at the obvious distress Jim was in. "Talk to me, kid. Something's been off with you all day."

Jim swallowed brokenly and rubbed the tears from his face with the back of his arm. "It's nothing. I just….guess it's been a long couple of weeks."

McCoy's heart broke even as he kicked himself for his stupidity. How often did he find himself telling Command, Spock and Jim himself that he was bound to be emotional? That even when you had good days, the type of thing he'd endured at Kodos's hands would bring nightmares to anyone? And that was before you took everything else into account. The press conference the day before had literally seen Jim picking open some of his deepest wounds and baring them for the Federation to see. Of course he was going to feel upset and shaky. The behavior at the bar made far more sense from that angle of perspective. Manic happiness was on the same axis as depression, as well as anger. Mood swings were to be expected.

Without even thinking, he pulled Jim into his arms and squeezed him tightly. He knew he right when Jim practically crushed his ribs in response, all but clinging to him with desperation.

"Easy kiddo," McCoy said, gruffly affectionate with Jim as he always was whenever the young, vulnerable part of his friend made itself known. Too much and Jim ran, not enough and he convinced himself he was weak for needing the comfort. It was a fine line, but remarkably easier to balance now than it was when they were younger. And less painful. The first time McCoy had hugged him, Jim had punched him in the jaw. There was no punching any more, and McCoy had finally convinced Jim that _this_ was okay to want,_ to need_. McCoy wasn't judging him and didn't want anything in return.

McCoy kissed his forehead the way Jim had done with Joanna, then swung an arm around Jim's neck and pulled him into a loose headlock. "Come on brat, let's go make sure Spock hasn't started alphabetizing your holo selections."

Jim didn't say anything in protest and allowed McCoy to haul him towards the couch before dumping him on Spock. "Don't let him wander off." McCoy told Spock, who had been waiting patiently. "Sit on him if you have to."

"That was a figure of speech." Jim said wearily to his XO. Jim had started to show signs of fatigue, even if he didn't want to admit it. McCoy had made excuses for them and Spock would have tagged along even if Jim hadn't asked him to. It had taken nearly twenty minutes for Jim to hug each and every one of them, loose limbed and affectionate as he always was when he'd had a few drinks. There would be more drinking, if McCoy had his say in the matter.

"No it wasn't." McCoy grinned. "Keep his ass on that couch while I go grab something."

He left Jim spluttering protests at Spock and darted to the hallway closet. Jim never used it, which was how McCoy had managed to hide Jim's birthday present there for nearly six weeks. Hide in plain sight, right?

He'd had it wrapped in store and the metallic surface had a dull gleam not unlike the hull of the _Enterprise_. Jim frowned at him when McCoy returned and thrust it into his hands.

"I was not aware that it was the anniversary of your birth, Jim." Spock looked troubled and the prospect of having missed it.

"It's not." Jim said, grinning like a little boy as he touched the wrapping reverently. "That's another few weeks away. Bones is just a sentimental bastard."

"I see." Spock said, most likely lying out of his ass.

"My birthday's never really been…" Jim struggled to find the words to describe the annual clusterfuck that was his birthday, so McCoy took over.

"His birthday sucks. We decided to get flexible."

"You decided." Jim snorted.

"Pike and I decided." McCoy countered, watching Jim carefully at the mention of his long time mentor. Jim just smiled. "Now open it already. The suspense is killing me."

"Surely you know what the item inside is, Doctor, since you purchased it yourself?"

"That _was_ a figure of speech." McCoy said dryly.

"Perhaps you should be more specific in your use of language." Spock responded, his voice equally acetic.

"Are you ladies done?" Jim laughed, thumbing open the wrapping with the slow carefulness of someone who had not received enough gifts in his life to leave any part of the process unappreciated. When he finally removed the item from his packaging, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh my god. That's awesome. Thanks Bones!" He set a large model of the _Enterprise_ down on his coffee table and removed the nacelles, which turned into beakers. He then opened the cargo bag hatch and tipped the ship on its side, pouring out the whiskey inside. "Scotty is going to be so jealous. Where the hell did you find this?"

"Some gift shop in town." McCoy chuckled. "I nearly got you the James T. Kirk action figure that goes with it but they were sold out."

"I have an action figure?" Jim blinked, clearly uncertain if the news was disturbing or awesome.

"Yep." McCoy laughed. "You too, Spock." So did he, but he'd be damned if he said as much. Spock tilted his head to one side, obviously bewildered by strange human quirks as always, while Jim took great glee in pouring drinks from a replica of his ship.

"You want?" Jim offered Spock after handing McCoy the first of the beakers.

Spock shook his head, then somewhat reluctantly placed a bottle of expensive chocolate milk on the table. "Since you invited me here with the express purpose of 'continuing to get completely fucking shitfaced', I felt it only in the spirit of companionship to come prepared."

"Did you just say 'fuck'?" Jim gaped, scandalized.

"Yes, Jim," Spock responded in that endlessly patient way of his and McCoy snickered into his beaker of whiskey. "I did."

"Well fuck me," Jim drank the entire contents of his beaker in one and refilled. Neither Spock nor McCoy commented. When Jim drank, he drank hard.

Spock's expression as he drank the chocolate milk provided enough material for Jim and McCoy got giggle in increasingly more inebriated fashions for another twenty minutes, but it was something, watching the way those sharp lines of his shoulders softened ever so gradually.

By the time the milk was gone and the _Enterprise_ had been drained of its very last drop, all three of them were slumped on Jim's couch, long limbs vying for space they didn't have, utterly relaxed in each others company.

Jim was clearly three sheets to the wind, because he looked at them both, his blue eyes wide and glassy, and said, "I love you both, you know that right?" They were the same words he had said to Joanna and McCoy felt himself smile drunkenly.

"Even though I didn't take you on a honeymoon?"

"I mean it." Jim said.

"Aw kid," McCoy grinned and nudged Jim's leg with his knee. "You're a sentimental fucking drunk."

Jim shrugged. "I guess."

"I think we killed Spock." McCoy said with absolutely no concern in his voice. He felt Jim lean over and give Spock a gentle shake. He received a bemused groan in response. "You get to explain this to Uhura in the morning."

"I'd love to." Jim said quietly. He climbed off the couch and fetched a blanket to tuck over Spock's legs.

"Hmm." McCoy leaned his head back against the couch and felt himself become boneless. God, this really was an epic couch. "What're you doin'?" He asked blearily when he realized Jim was tucking another blanket over him. "How are you not as drunk as I am? Get back down here."

"I-I just need a little fresh air."

McCoy frowned up at him blearily. Jim's face was blurred with both alcohol and tiredness. "Okay, balcony?" He started to push himself up but Jim pressed a hand down on his chest.

"Stay here." He said gently. "I'll be fine."

"Hmmm." McCoy agreed. Even Jim couldn't get into any trouble on his own balcony. "Wake me up in a bit?" He asked sleepily, closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep.

He felt something splash on his cheek, but it wasn't cold and he was too comfortable to move and brush it off.

"Okay Bones." He heard Jim say.

Then he slept.


	5. Chapter 5

You guys really don't know my new kitten. She's like a cross between an angry Spock and a grumpy Bones with a dash of Jim's _but_ _I'm so innocent_ blue eyes thrown in for good measure. She can take all the Gorns, Denebian Slime Demons and Hengrauggi(s/i?!) you can throw at her. She also protects my secret identity as a Klin…

Yes. Anyhow.

I'm sorry the last chapter made you sad. This one will probably not be much better. You're just going to have to trust me, okay? Please? You can borrow the puppy to cuddle if that helps. He's adorable, if a little dim.

Trauma Alert Ahead. Also Gore Alert and Author is Evil Alert. Watch your step.

(Points to those who can translate the Klingon spoken at the end. Google fu! I'd tell you but it would be spoiling things :p)

* * *

Thanks to an eventful evening with Jim and chocolate cookies, Spock now knew what a hangover felt like, and was therefore not unduly concerned to wake up in considerable amounts of pain. The light streamed in through the large windows of Jim's apartment, the lack of fog prevalent on the bay and the bright glint of sun against the water suggested that it was already mid morning.

McCoy was still asleep on the couch besides Spock, his head thrown back and a deep, even rattle of sound emitting from his mouth with every exhale.

Spock stood carefully, ignoring the spike of pain at his temple and drinking the glass of water that had been left on the coffee table, along with two detox shots. Spock wasn't sure which was intended for his use and had no experience calibrating the chemicals for Vulcan use, so opted to wait for McCoy to wake before administration.

He found Joanna sat at the kitchen table eating cereal and found it in himself to be cordial in his morning greeting. "Where is Jim?" He asked, experience telling him that Jim would have found Spock's discomfort far more amusing than was decent and therefore should be present to witness it.

"I don't know." She said softly. "He wasn't here when I woke up."

"When was that?"

"Four hours ago." Joanna admitted shyly. Spock knew from conversations with Jim and McCoy that the little girl still had nightmares and trouble sleeping. It was one of the main reasons why she was staying with Jim. For all that her mother and father loved her dearly, she'd come to associate Jim with absolute security. He imagined the root of that belief was far in the past, but Jim had told her with all the authority of his experience that she would be safe, and that they would come for her. They had, and so Joanna believed Jim infallible in ways children her age were slowly becoming aware that adults were not. When she had nightmares, McCoy could calm her down easily enough, but she would not attempt further sleep unless Jim was with her.

The fact that he had not done so that morning was troubling. It was obvious that Jim dotted on Joanna and needed to look after her as much as she required the comfort of his presence.

It was a quirk Spock had noticed before he had melded with Jim, but now saw just how fundamental to Jim's psyche it was. He needed to care for people. It had been caring for the children on Tarsus that had helped him survive his torture, and his need to care for the three children he had encountered as a young adult which had drawn him away from his path of self destructive violence. It was reflected in his leadership style as well. Jim knew the names of all his crew, the birthdays of most and the names of partners and children of those who had them. He went out of his way to arrange leave when he could, and communication when he could not, and been dragged along by more than one crewman's son or daughter to speak at their schools.

Spock still found it utterly perplexing how a man who cared so much and so deeply could ever choose to hide away behind the mask of a selfish, childish, careless reprobate.

"Maybe he went back to Starfleet?" Joanna said tentatively, sensing Spock's disquiet.

"Perhaps," he mused.

Jim's behavior was troubling. _Jim_ was troubling. He was without question the main cause of frustration and confusion in Spock's life. Nyota claimed they were good for each other and Spock would not deny it. While he loved her deeply, he had never had the kind of platonic connection that he did with Jim and McCoy and he took great strength from it.

He was learning how to be more human in his relationships, inspired by those around him to see the wonder and power within them. An unfortunate side effect was concern.

He worried.

He worried about McCoy, who slept so deeply under the influence of alcohol because he had trouble doing so sober, Jim's nightmares still haunting him.

He worried about Jim, who was equally the strongest being Spock had ever met, and the most fragile. After having seen himself through Jim's eyes, he knew exactly how much he and his friendship meant. He's also seen how many times he had been inadvertently cruel in the infancy of their relationship. He'd never understood how his words and actions might be received by a emotional creature like a human, not until he'd experienced them from the other side. He now made extra effort to be a little less harsh with the crew, to be more approachable to their friends and when not being driven utterly to distraction by one of his antics, infinitely careful with Jim.

It was not without its rewards. He basked in Nyota's delight, took pleasure in McCoy's rough but well meaning bickering and felt peace when pinned under Jim's bright smiles. His mother, it seemed, had been right all along.

"Spock!" The door to Jim's apartment burst open as Nyota charged into the room, her hair uncombed and the hem of her nightdress just visible under the loose athletic jacket she had pulled on. "Where's Jim? Jim?"

"Nyota, what is wrong?" Spock rushed from the kitchen into the main room in time to see McCoy jerk into full consciousness, his hand nursing his head.

"What the hell?" He grumbled in a pained voice.

"Where is he?" Her eyes were wide with worry and now Spock was looking for it, he could feel her panic and fear pounding down on him in a constant battering of emotion.

"What are you talking about?" McCoy rubbed at his eyes, reaching for the water that had been left for him.

"Check the news feeds." She called out, before heading back towards Jim's bedroom, still calling out for him. A moment later she returned. "He's not answering his comm. You're not answering _your_ comm."

Spock checked his pockets and realized he must have left it somewhere. He found it between the cushions of Jim's couch and it buzzed just as McCoy turned on the news.

"-_tell me he fucking didn't?"_ Spock was surprised to hear Sam Kirk's voice, almost as surprised as was to see Jim, dressed in black leather, take down a Klingon scout with an extremely well placed and vicious looking blow, practically snapping his neck in the process.

Qo'noS, Spock recalled as the image replayed on loop alongside other footage, including Jim at the conference two days prior. If the recording had continued, it would have shown Jim being quickly outnumbered and pinned by incoming fire. If it had started a few moments earlier, it would have shown a Klingon Captain nearly choke Nyota to death. He dropped his comm back onto the couch in shock at seeing such visceral reminders of their own narrow brush with death.

"-_sources are unclear as to why Captain Kirk was on the Klingon homeworld of Qo'noS but there can be no denying the fact that while he was there he did murder a citizen of the planet. These images could not have come at a more damaging time for either Kirk, or Starfleet, who have only recently come under fire for actions taken in the black. It's perhaps no surprise then that President Marlentes has, just twenty minutes ago, issued the following statement_:"

Marlentes appeared on the holo, elegantly put together as always with an undeniable steal to her voice. "Captain Kirk has always acted with the best interests for Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, however no man is infallible. A thorough investigation will be staged as to why Captain Kirk engaged in unlawful acts of violence on Qo'noS, but until our inquiries are complete, Kirk has willingly handed himself into Klingon custody as a gesture of goodwill."

"_Good will or not, this raises further questions as to why a man, only twenty six years old, with no formal education and a criminal record was allowed anywhere near Qo'noS in the first place. And if, as it turns out, Kirk was acting under orders, how Starfleet can justify this abrupt rescinding of support only days after assuring the Federation that Captain James T. Kirk had their full and unequivocal backing. In yet another shocking turn of events, Admiral Jonathan Archer, a former President of the UFP himself and current Chief of Operations for Starfleet Command, controversially resigned his commission this morning in protest of the decision to hand Kirk over to the Klingon Empire. Following the devastating actions of Admiral Alexander Marcus earlier this year, and still recovering from the Battle of Vulcan fifteen months prior, today's events have struck yet another crippling blow to a Starfleet that has never before teetered so close to the edge of collapse. Stay with us live at Starfleet Command as we await-"_

Spock stared at the holo in mute shock, absolutely none of what he had just seen and heard making even the slightest sense to him.

Jim had handed himself over to the Klingons. Starfleet had allowed it.

_Jim had handed himself over to the Klingons._

"They threatened us with war." Spock looked up to see Archer standing in the open doorway of Jim's apparent. He was dressed in civilian clothing and if possible looked even more haggard than usual. "Turn him over or prepare for invasion."

Spock was not the only one stunned into silence. Besides him, McCoy said nothing at all. Most uncharacteristic of the man who frequently outdid Jim when it came to emotional outbursts.

Surprisingly it was Nyota who responded. "Then we should be going to war." She snapped. "It's inevitable anyway."

"No, it isn't." Archer shook his head. "War with the Klingons is not _inevitable_. I do not believe that, neither does Jim."

"But he said-"

"He said war is inevitable. It is. But neither he nor I believe the Klingons have to be our enemy."

Spock found his voice, forcing back the parts of him that called out in distress and giving over completely to the security of Vulcan logic. "There is no tactical advantage to be gained from turning himself in."

"Kirk believed there was." Archer said.

"Of course he fucking did." McCoy suddenly broke free of his shock, his eyes blazing with the same barely contained fury that Spock could not allow freedom. "This is what you called him in for, isn't it? You spineless goddamn coward. They threaten you with war and instead of telling them to get fucked you call him in. You give _him_ the ultimatum."

Archer met McCoy's anger with his own. "Letting him go was no my choice."

"It shouldn't have been his!" McCoy yelled. "Do any of you fuckwits actually read the reports I send you? He is not fit for command. That means he is not fit for the roles, _or_ responsibilities of his rank."

"He made his choice, Doctor. You of all people know how stubborn he is."

"No," McCoy shook his head. "No, no, see, stubborn is him being a pain in the ass about taking care of himself or letting something go, or doing as his doctor tells him. _This_ is you telling a man who is not emotionally capable of making any kind of rational choice that either he hands himself over to people who want to kill him, or lots of people die. That's blackmail, pure and fucking simple."

"They will kill him." Spock said coldly. "You understand that, do you not?" Call it a gesture of good will if that appeased the press, but there was no doubt in Spock's mind what would happen to Jim once he was in Klingon custody. They would interrogate him, and they would kill him. There was no other reason at all for them to demand his life if not to ignite conflict.

"I trust Jim knows what he is doing." Archer said tiredly.

"Really? Because what he's doing right now is walking into a warp core reactor to save the goddamn world again, and we all know how that turned out." Archer was not the only one to flinch at McCoy's cold fury.

"When will he leave? Where are they doing the exchange?" Spock had risked a whole lot more than an interplanetary conflict to save Jim. Under no circumstances would fate be allowed to take him from them again.

"He already left." Archer said softly. "He beamed to SSK11 at 0500 this morning. A shuttle left to take him to Qo'noS twenty minutes ago."

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" McCoy erupted. 'The kid can barely get through the day on his own two feet and you're subjecting his body to the trauma of a transwarp beam across twelve sectors of space?"

"He was checked on arrival." Archer reassured them. "He suffered no ill effects."

"I'll give you ill effects," McCoy growled, then paused, his face pale and horrified. "That little _shit_." He rounded back on Archer. "You told him, didn't you. He knew, yesterday. He knew he was just going to sneak off in the middle of the night and hand himself over to the goddamn _Klingons._"

"He asked for time to settle his affairs." Archer said. "We gave it to him."

"Settle his…" McCoy dropped down on the couch, his face buried in his hands. Spock struggled valiantly to maintain his control, unable to remove a single memory of the prior day from his mind, trying to read more into the things Jim had said and done.

He'd know something was upsetting him.

He should have pushed. He should never have allowed Jim to compromise him.

"They are going to kill him, aren't they?" Nyota said softly.

Archer did not answer, his grim expression saying everything.

"Daddy?" Spock turned in horror, having forgotten all about Joanna, who had most likely heard everything from the kitchen. Jim's apartment was not large and their voices had been raised with the height of their emotions.

The soft sound of pain McCoy emitted struck Spock directly in the heart. He struggled visibly to control himself before raising his head and holding an arm out to his daughter. Joanna rushed across the room and into his arms, not asking further questions but clinging on tightly. She was a smart child, despite her tender years.

Across the room tears streamed down Nyota's face as she covered her mouth with a hand to hide her distress.

Spock could only stand there, suddenly consumed by a cold, destructive anger that burned to ever more fierce flames.

His anger with Starfleet was nothing new now.

Instead his anger found a more familiar, more dangerous subject.

How dare Jim do this to them again? How dare he look them all in the eye and lie to them, all the while planning on doing something so utterly, destructively pointless?

Never before had Spock felt such levels of rage directed at someone he cared about. It was confusing and terrifying, all consuming and utterly deadly.

He was almost thankful in that moment that Jim was not in the room with them. Spock _would_ have hurt him. Right now he felt like he could kill him.

He was vaguely aware of Archer's comm buzzing and the Admiral – former – answering in cool, clipped toned. "What? _What_? When? What the hell happened? Kill the fucking feed. I don't care how, it's your job isn't it?"

He spoke the words in shock only moments before the holo went wild with static.

"_Just in, live footage from the Ketha Province on Qo'noS where Captain Kirk has only moments ago been transferred into custody of the Klingon Empire where-"_

McCoy pulled Joanna tighter into his arms, shielding her from what was on screen as a grainy image of Jim suddenly appeared, flanked by two Starfleet Officers whose faces Spock could not see.

Jim looked unsteady on his feet and his hands were cuffed to prevent escape.

In that moment, all of Spock's anger evaporated, leaving only fear behind. In that moment, his first and dearest friend was on the other side of the galaxy, far beyond their help, and in the hands of people who would do him harm.

Jim was passed into the hands of the Klingons and forced down to his knees, a sudden look of surprise crossing his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words were not distinguishable from the feed.

Spock's heartbeat was loud in his ears as he watched helplessly.

Then one Klingon spoke directly to the holo. "_Wa' SuvwI' muHlu'DI', tuHchoH Hoch SuvwI'pu_. Your Federation has no honor."

And without warning or further threat, the Klingon holding Jim down took a handful of his hair, pulled back his head, and cleanly slit open his throat.


	6. Chapter 6

Guys, seriously! I can't post if you push me out of an airlock! Just for that I am not going to say sorry this one is being posted a little later than usual. I was shoe shopping and it was glorious (and expensive).

The next few chapters will be fairly slow and quiet and ouchy but then we get back to intrigue and explosions and other fun stuff.

I've gone for more of tos!31 than nu!31, which has so far only really been described in the films as super black ops with slightly (okay, very) shady management. In tos they were much more of a dissident group, seriously unimpressed with Starfleet Command and pretty much all batshit crazy, which I find far more sinister. (And you know how I love the crazy!) It's one thing to have a black ops group, it is something else entirely to have a black ops group that are ENTIRELY autonomous.

Oh, and yes. I _did_ just do that. :p

* * *

A horizontal slice to the jugular. Blade, at a glance, appeared smooth and sharp. Based on subject's size and prior physical health, exsanguination estimated in ninety eight seconds.

McCoy's brain filled in the details as the image being broadcast to the Federation was abruptly cut short, returning to a shell-shocked reporter who gaped in horror at what they had just been shown.

Joanna sobbed brokenly in his arms and he felt himself stroking her hair, whispering soothingly, but he knew neither the words he spoke or the feel of her hair beneath his fingers. He felt as if he'd been given a large dose of anesthetic. Physically he felt nothing at all. Mentally he felt slightly hazy, his thoughts disjointed and fleeting.

He remembered with a fragmented sort of distance how he had dropped to his knees and attempted to save Kodos after Kevin had slit open his throat. Blood had spilled so rapidly across his hands and the cold fear in Kodos's eyes had almost been enough to make McCoy forget all the evil he had done.

In the blink of an eye it was not Kodos he was trying to save, but Jim. Jim's blood that stained his hands, Jim's wide eyes begging him to save him.

And maybe, if he'd been there, he _could_ have saved Jim. He'd not saved Kodos but if he was honest with himself, he hadn't really been _trying._ He could have saved Jim. He would have. He'd done it so many times before.

But there could be no eleventh hour miracle. No super blood, no spark of medical brilliance.

Jim was dead, and McCoy couldn't save him this time.

* * *

Mostly, they didn't cry. They sat in silence, stunned and aching, but dry-eyed. They were in shock.

In the hour that had followed Jim's death –_murder_- his crew had congregated in his small apartment, drawn to the place on Earth Jim had considered home to seek companionship and strength while they struggled to comprehend the grievous blow they had just been dealt.

McCoy knew he was drunk, and he probably wasn't the only one. Scotty had sat down heavily at the kitchen table, a large bottle that swilled with pale blue liquid set down between them. Them stuff tasted like fuel and burned the whole way down, not so much warming as stripping his throat bare. McCoy had only taken two shots of it before the world started to blur at the edges.

He and Scott were the adults in the room, he supposed. They sat at the table, grim faced and stern, while the others huddled together on the couch, limbs squashed together, bodies piled atop one another, hands clutched together and heads on shoulders. Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Riley and Carol, all perched or squashed on the couch, unwilling to be separated for fear of falling apart.

Only Spock remained, stood by the window as he looked out over the bay, rain pouring down the glass and his dark eyes focused on something far away.

McCoy knew he should reach out to Spock. He knew better than anyone just how much Spock had needed Jim, even if the Vulcan refused to admit it or Jim could not recognize it. Despite the alcohol, or maybe because of it, McCoy could see clearly what would happen now Jim was gone. He could see the gaping wound in his heart, the one Spock claimed felt nothing of love. The hurt it had taken in the last fifteen months was too grievous, too overwhelming. Uhura had kept him functioning, but it had been Jim who had forced him to heal from the loss of both his mother and Vulcan. Uhura accepted Spock as he was, but Jim made him be more. More human, more compassionate, quicker to feel and limitless in his potential. McCoy knew what that felt like because Jim had done the same with him.

He'd had no cause to latch on to a bitter divorcee who hated himself so much he'd sooner face his deepest fear than what he was leaving behind. But he had. He'd grabbed a hold of McCoy and called him Bones, then dragged him kicking and screaming back into the sun.

There had been a beauty in watching Spock come into himself, for all McCoy only liked him some of the time. Jim had a talent for finding the most bruised and battered of souls and helping them blossom into something wonderful.

And McCoy could see all that progress and potential die in Spock with every passing moment.

Jim had defined them all in so many ways. They had been proud, all of them, to have him as their Captain. He had been their friend and their champion, giving Sulu and Uhura positions of authority utterly unheard of for their age or experience; bringing Scotty on as his Chief when no other Captain would touch him; treating Chekov like a person, not a resource and encouraging him to keep his youth while treating him as an adult.

Jim had been theirs, and despite the danger of their jobs, they had felt safe with him, knowing that he would move Heaven, Earth and anything in between to keep them from harm. Other crews might have had their more experienced officers, their more established ships. They had crazy, unpredictable, unstoppable Jim who cheated death to stay with them. They could do anything together, defined by that brilliance.

And now _this_ defined them. Jim Kirk's crew. The crew who had let their Captain die alone in enemy hands.

Spock without Jim was not a Spock they knew or liked.

McCoy without Jim had no purpose.

A crew without their Captain were just a group of people sat together in a room, united by a grief so overwhelming it stole the breath from their lungs.

This would kill them, McCoy knew. Maybe not literally, but there would be no coming back. They would fracture and splinter, each consumed by their own wounds with no one to draw them onwards.

Spock would not be able to do it.

McCoy did not want to.

"On your fucking feet." The ice-cold command was snapped out with such ringing authority that McCoy found himself stumbling to his feet without question. He'd been in Starfleet for too long now, his body responding to command even when his mind struggled to function.

In the dim light, drunk as he was, McCoy could almost believe it was Jim standing in the main room, hands on his hips and radiating a kind of menace that spoke of blood and pain and vengeance. But no, Jim wasn't like that. Jim, who had seen the very worst of people, still fought to foster the best in them.

It was Sam who stared them all down, with George Kirk's strong shoulders and Winona's brilliant madness in his eyes.

Sam was the last of their legacy now. The last of the blue-eyed boys Starfleet had so brutally set about crafting into weapons.

McCoy hated him. Hated that he was alive when Jim was dead. Hated that he stood there, with Jim's authority and his burning, piercing blue eyes and promised them something that Jim never would have promised.

"As of five minutes ago, the United Federation of Planets is officially at war with the Klingon Empire."

McCoy wondered if he should care. Probably.

He didn't.

Jim's crew, his _family_, stood there, hollowed out and bleeding from a wound no medical miracle could ever fix. They looked neither shocked or concerned. Why would they? The day had already taken from them more than they could stand to lose.

Sam Kirk continued. Anyone who called Jim mad had never seen his brother speak. Something glittered in Sam's eyes, not quite insanity, but perhaps something worse. "We are now at war. Enlistments are going out. All personnel are being recalled to their posts."

"Are we being reassigned?" Sulu was the one who spoke, his calm, even voice rough at the edges. He would be the last person to show his grief, but it was there.

"The _Enterprise_," Sam looked at Scotty, "is she operational?"

"No." Scott said flatly.

Sam's grin showed teeth. "Can you make her?"

"Aye." Scott said, equally as devoid of emotion.

"How quickly?"

"We'd be running close to the line but I could have her in the black in twelve hours. She couldn't support more than the bare essentials; weapons systems aren't yet fully operational; life support would be at a minimum. Taking her out would be damn near suicidal."

"But you can do it?"

"Course I can bloody do it."

"Marlentes put Kormac in charge." Sam said grimly. "He'll be giving you your orders any minute."

"Kormac?" McCoy found his voice hurt to use. "We're all fucked." Jim had hated Kormac with the kind of passion that had unnerved McCoy, at least until he'd had the dubious pleasure of meeting the man himself. He was a career Admiral and a politician, and possibly the last person Starfleet needed to lead them in a war with the Klingon Empire.

"Actually it's perfect." Sam grinned dangerously. "He's going to send you into the black, and I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are." McCoy growled. Sam was too much to deal with on a good day. McCoy couldn't imagine having to look at him and see shades of Jim in every action. He felt a brief, passing flash of sympathy for Winona Kirk and quickly hated himself for it. "Why the hell would we let you back on Jim's ship after what you did?"

"I told you: we're at war. Inter arma silent leges." _In times of war the law is silent,_ McCoy's brain translated.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Uhura snapped.

"It means," They jumped at the sound of Spock's voice, "that we will no longer blindly trust our lives to an organization that would hand over our Captain like a sacrificial lamb to slaughter. They knew that the Klingons would kill him and their cowardice will cost them as much as it has cost us."

McCoy nodded and moved unsteadily to stand by Spock's side. It felt as it they were standing on the edge of a great precipice and they had already watched Jim be tossed to its depths.

A darkness had seeped into their hearts and their minds, filling all the bright spaces that Jim had one occupied, numbing the hurt and strengthening the resolve.

"Means we find the bastards that took Jim from us – _all of them_." McCoy picked up, thinking of Joanna and they way she had hung limply from Joce's arms when her mother had come to take her away from the drama and impending explosion, exhausted from her tears and traumatized in ways Cerberus had not come close to achieving. He thought of Jim, the parts of him that no one else knew and the bright, glorious future he would never get to see realized.

"We make them pay." Scotty nodded.

In the darkness, Sam Kirk smiled grimly, his handsome face obscured by shadows as they willingly sold their souls to the devil. "Ladies and gentlemen," Sam said softly, "welcome to Section 31."


	7. Chapter 7

Lets dial back the physical threats, shall we? I can't do anything productive if you cut my head off and feed me to tribbles (and wow you guys are a violent bunch, a little less decapitation please!)

I think this chapter is long overdue since some of you are still convinced Sam is just misunderstood! For those of you who haven't read _Transitions_, Sam is the all around loon who blew up a building with Jim in it, executed their childhood caretaker, then absconded with a post surgery Jim (and the warp core of the _Enterprise_…) and tried to make a trade with the Klingons, all in the name of getting revenge on Marcus, who may have screwed his life up a bit. He also had more than a few dealings with John Harrison, who as we know was such a stand up guy. He's a knights short of a full crusade and absolutely the last person ever that you want to follow on a bloody revenge quest.

There's probably a bit more swearing than usual in this part, mostly because it's Sam. And because it's Sam, there's also a character death. I'm going to go buy myself some body armor...

* * *

"She's cutting it a bit fucking fine." Sam breathed heavily into the comm. and tried to stop his hands from shaking. He refused to believe Jim was dead, and unlike the poor bastards upstairs mourning him, he was slightly more in the loop. No way would Starfleet have been allowed to just hand Jim over to the Klingons. Even if Marlentes didn't know how much of an asset Jim was, the people really running the show did. "That looked far too damn real."

"_Probably because it was. Fuckers got a little trigger happy_." The voice on the end of the comm. was gruff and clearly unhappy to be caught in the middle of things. "_We got to him in time, thank fuck, but it was a right damn mess."_

Sam shuddered. He and Jim had their problems no question, but that didn't mean he didn't love his little brother, or that he would stand back and let anyone hurt him. "Jesus." He exhaled slowly, replaying the image of Jim in his mind as his throat was cut open. "Jesus."

"_He'll be okay. We've got him on a load of plasma and a pretty aggressive regen treatment. Scar'll be one to write home about, but he should be back to his recklessly self-sacrificing self in a few days."_

"Thank you." Sam said genuinely. "Jesus Christ, that kid's going to kill me one of these days."

"_You and me both, asshole_."

"She talked to him yet?" Sam paced around the deserted park, absently chewing on his thumbnail. It was a nervous habit he had picked up from his dad and Jim from him. Not George Kirk's finest legacy, but perhaps one of the more endearing ones.

"_Nah, kid's ridding the stratosphere right now. She'll wait until he's at least semi-coherent before dropping that bombshell."_

"How'd you think he'll take it?" Sam asked curiously.

"_Bout as well as you did_." That made him cringe.

"I did _not_ take it well."

"_Exactly_." He laughed gruffly. "_And he's got a Vulcan he can set on her as well_."

"Don't remind me." Sam said darkly, casting his gaze up to the building he had left Jim's crew in minutes earlier. "If he rips my head off I'm gonna be pissed. How come I get the shitty job of wrangling Jim's crew? They're all fucking crazy. And they hate me. A lot. Lots of hate." Which was putting it mildly. The fact that the doctor hadn't given him come communal disease was more a matter of a lack of opportunity as opposed to motive.

"_Because you're a fuckwit."_ He said irritably. "_A stupid fuckwit at that, and she's still pissed you nearly fucked things up with Kor."_

"I think I have a reasonable excuse!" Sam protested, somewhat indignant and still stinging from the epic clusterfuck that had been his reunion – and subsequent fallout – with Jim. "Next time tell her to share her evil plans and we won't have so many problems. Communication: it's important!"

"You_ tell her. I like my balls where they are_."

Sam cringed and quickly changed the subject. "He'll be okay though, right?"

"_Your brother is as stubborn as fuck and twice as tough as you are, jackass. He'll be fine. Pissed, but fine_."

"Everyone is gonna be pissed." Sam said darkly. "You're not dealing with Starfleet's blood thirstiest recruits."

"_You plan on telling em he's still kickin'_?"

"Not yet." Sam shook his head. "Not until they're in too deep for it to make a difference."

"_They on board then_?"

"One hundred and ten percent." Sam nodded. "Right now they'd kill the President herself if she was in front of them. They want blood. Large quantities of it."

"_Maybe I could grow to like em after all." _He said with a dark chuckle. "_Didn't think you'd be able to do it. Whole lot of em were too fucking polished and prissy when I saw em."_

"They love Jim." Sam said softly. "They lost him once and I think a part of them has been waiting to lose him again ever since. Miracles like Jim just don't happen." There in lay Sam's biggest regret. He had a lot of them, but at the top was the fact that he hadn't killed Marcus for the things he'd done to them as kids, and he'd not stopped him from taking Jim's life. He might not like McCoy, but the man had won himself a free pass to punch Sam in the face as many times as he liked with his miracle working.

"_We all love Jim. Little fuck's too endearing for his own good. Good thing, really, because your family ain't exactly overrun with charm_."

"I'm charming," Sam protested. "Very charming."

"_You're an asshole_."

"An asshole who is working miracles down here. I just got you Starfleet's flagship and a crew to man it. Some appreciation would be nice."

"_You want a pat on the back, little girl? You got us a broken ship and a grieving crew."_

"I got you leverage." Sam stressed. "Trust me: Jimmy takes this as badly as I did, you're gonna fucking need them."

"_We'll see_." Sam really hated him sometimes. "_You still on schedule?"_

"We'll be in the black as planned." Sam confirmed. "Kormac's not issued the orders yet, but he will. Stupid bastard is predictable if nothing else."

"_Good. We've got something else we need you to take care of on the ground, but make sure you're on board when you leave. I'll send you the co-ordinates_."

"How dead do you want them?" Sam asked, his fingers flexing in anticipation of violence. This late in the game, there was only one thing they could be asking of him. He didn't mind. He didn't _enjoy_ killing people, but he was damn good at it.

"_Dead enough to not cause any trouble." _He said. "_Just be quick about it. We'll take care of Jim in the meantime._"

"Good luck with that." Sam said genuinely. Jimmy was gonna be pissed. It was probably for the better really. "He's not the kid either of us knew any more."

"_I know_." There was something both proud and wistful in the words.

Sam's comm buzzed with the co-ordinates and he felt his expression freeze in surprise. Interesting. The conversation had drawn to an end, but Sam felt the need to say one last thing before he went back to wrangling Jim's heartbroken, vengeful crew. "Cy?"

"_Hmm_?"

"Just…be gentle with him. He's had it rough."

"_I'm not the one you need to be havin' that conversation with, kid_." Cy said quietly.

"Yeah." He sighed. "Don't I fuckin' know it?"

* * *

Sam had a three-minute window with his target before someone would notice him missing. Fortunately for him, this would only take two.

Jonathan Archer might have retired, but he was still the one variable they couldn't afford to leave unaccounted for. Everyone else was dead, and Kormac was too stupid to put it all together. Archer though, Archer might. He could be a real spanner in the works.

Sam felt a momentary stab of remorse. He had nothing against the man. He'll he'd always thought of Jonathan Archer as something of a hero when he was a kid. All the things he'd dreamed of doing and seeing were things Archer had already seen and done.

But Sam wasn't a child any more, and he had no room in his life for heroes.

He cornered the man in his own kitchen, calm and quiet as it was possible to be.

"I should have known you'd be in on this." Archer said resignedly when he saw Sam.

"Just doing what you trained me to do."

"Yeah, Kodos did real good with you, didn't he Sam?"

Sam had to struggle not to respond. Kodos might be dead, but that didn't take away the memory of all that he had done.

Still, he would never let Archer know that the hit had made contact. He smiled lopsidedly. "You gonna struggle?"

"I'm an old man." Archer said calmly. "I've seen and done things you can't possibly imagine. A lot of people have tried to kill me."

"I'm not going to try." Sam said confidently. "And I am on a tight deadline."

He didn't give Archer chance to respond. He was across the room in seconds, one arm looped around his neck, the other hooked behind his head, and he squeezed them together.

Archer might have had years of experience, he might have seen countless battles.

But Sam was younger, faster, and driven by a goal that gave him the strength of ten men.

"It's nothing personal." Sam said pleasantly as he let the man slip from his arms to crumple on the kitchen floor. "I hope you understand that."

His comm. buzzed as Archer's body hit the ground. He flipped it open and McCoy's irritable voice rang loud in the otherwise silent room. "_Where the hell are you? Scott needs to run primary checks and he can't do that until we clear everyone on board."_

He was glad that, for whatever reason, it wasn't the Vulcan who had called him. "I'm on my way." He said, stepping over Archer and heading for the door. "Just had to see an old friend before we left."


	8. Chapter 8

I'm mean, I'm horrible, you hope I get eaten by various monsters while stuck in my rusty armor. I'm not sure if you have noticed, but threats haven't really been working so far!

Poor Bones and Spock. They aren't exactly logical when it comes to Jim, even on the best of days :(I'm afraid nothing really happens in this chapter, other than McCoy needing a hug, Christine Chapel returning and Sam being his usual sneaky self. Last chances for bets on the head of 31 though! Next chapter is the grand reveal!

I think I have Fall Flu. It's making me grumpy. Apparently I am extra mean when I am grumpy. Probably not a good thing since I am working on the next part of _Fortunate Sons…._

* * *

The Captain's Mess on the _Enterprise _was rarely, if ever, used. There had been a few occasions when Jim had been forced to entertain officials and higher ranking officers, but mostly he ate his meals in one of the Halls. Jim utilized the time to talk to his crew and to be a visible presence among them. He felt it was the only way for a Captain to behave, no matter how many times Spock told him it was irregular.

Personally McCoy felt it was a manifestation of the discomfort Jim felt at his role in the ship. There was no denying that he was born to be Captain, but getting there so quickly had left him a little uncertain of his footing, at least when he wasn't able to flit from one crisis to another.

McCoy and Spock had clashed on it in the past. Spock felt he should follow protocol, while McCoy was just pleased to see Jim eating and being sociable. With all the responsibilities Jim had on the ship, McCoy had feared a relapse of their senior year finals. Give Jim enough to occupy himself and he would merrily forgo food and sleep right up to the point where he'd keel over several days later. The first time it had happened, McCoy had blown a fuse, ranting and lecturing a genuinely bemused Jim. The second time he'd hit octaves he'd never before reached, and the third had finally clued him into the fact that Jim didn't actually do it on purpose. His mind was simply so distracted by the delights or frustrations of solving one puzzle or other than normal, mundane things slipped his mind. He only actually remembered to shower because that came right after his early morning run. McCoy had learned the hard way that it was better Jim skipped a night's sleep than his morning run. If Jim was difficult on a good day, he was a goddamn nightmare if he hadn't burned the tracks that day.

Running was one of the few sports they did together. McCoy had no interest in soccer or rock climbing or base jumping or any of the other ridiculous things Jim liked to do to blow off steam, but he did enjoy running and occasionally they sparred together. First time McCoy had punched him in the face he'd been horrified, at least until Jim had started to laugh his ass off, pleased he didn't have to worry quite so much about McCoy in a bar fight. They'd gotten in so many and Jim was the cause of all of them, even if he hadn't always thrown the first punch.

He fought. Always fought. He'd embodied the no-win scenario and he'd made others believe.

And then he'd gone and just walked into Klingon hands.

_Your life, or war_, they'd told him.

The Jim McCoy knew best, the one who had beaten Nero and defied Marcus, he would have flipped them all the bird and written himself a third option.

He'd never have given in.

But he _had_ given in.

McCoy wondered if that was their fault. _His fault._

Before Jim had met any of them he'd survived a childhood of abuse, seen the bloodiest massacre in recent memory and lived beyond the rules of society in a world more brutal and dangerous than McCoy cared to imagine. He'd done all that, and still come out mostly sane, strong and stubborn.

They…_he_ had been the one to push Jim into being more. To open up, to let others help him, to shoulder the burdens he carried alone. McCoy had always felt it so unfair that Jim had been forced to endure so much, but in reality it had never been more than he could manage. It had never broken him.

Khan, Kodos, Sam… Jim could probably have endured them alone as well, somehow. He'd have found a way because that is what he did.

But add Pike, add friends and family, people who stood up and said _this is not okay_ and _you are _not_ alone anymore _and that was when the cracks started to appear.

The Jim they rescued from Kodos had been fundamentally broken inside. At the time McCoy had seen the positives in that, seen the man that could emerge from the ashes.

Now he wasn't so sure. Now, he wondered if Jim had _always_ been that person and they had ruined him.

Jim with nothing to lose was unstoppable.

But a Jim with people who loved him and needed him and who he loved back… was a man laid completely vulnerable and defenseless to the monsters that stalked his life.

McCoy stood at the table in the unused Captain's Mess and remembered another table. He recalled the way they had all squashed together, limbs tangled, alcohol flowing, laughter bright and happy, jokes fired at Warp Seven… he recalled how warm Jim's smile had been when he was surrounded by his friends, how bright his eyes, how relaxed his shoulders.

And all of it had been a lie. He'd looked at them, smiled at them, and all the while been intending to walk into enemy hands to face torture at best, death at worst.

And Spock and McCoy, the two men who claimed to know him the best, had not seen it coming.

It said a lot about the kind of man Jim was and the effect that he'd had on them when McCoy considered sacrificing his own life the _easy_ option.

"Leonard?" Uhura's tentative voice pulled him out of his thoughts with a jolt. Back in her Reds, Uhura was as polished as always. Only the bloodshot glaze to her eyes gave away her emotions. McCoy envied her that. He was still in the same clothes he'd been in when they'd gone to the bar. His socks might actually have belonged to Jim at one point. "We're ready when you are. All crew are assembling in their departments for checks."

McCoy nodded. Given the severity of their situation, it hadn't been long before Kormac had recalled the crew of the _Enterprise_ from leave, issuing emergency protocols to get the ship ready to leave. Despite Scotty's thoughts on the matter, they had actually taken on extra staff as flight qualified ground crew were transferred on to continue repairs in the black.

They were running on a patch job at best and McCoy could only imagine what Jim's reaction to the orders would have been. Loud and inappropriate, most likely.

"I'll be right down." He told Uhura. She hesitated, clearly trying to judge his need for comfort. He was glad when she backed off without further word.

* * *

McCoy wasn't as surprised as he should have been to see Christine Chapel lined up with the rest of his department for inspection. Neither was he surprised when she waited for him after he had dismissed them all to their duties.

"I'm so sorry." She said gently. "I'm so, so sorry."

McCoy nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Nurse Chapel. It's good to have you back."

She hesitated. "I'm glad to be here." McCoy nodded again and turned to leave but was called back.

"Are you really listening to Sam Kirk? The man's a lunatic." Christine exclaimed. "He's a sociopath."

That was probably an accurate assessment of Sam Kirk. The only person he could claim to actually care for was a man he frequently put in harms way to further his own goals.

Still… "I don't care about his people skills, Nurse Chapel." He could sympathize with her predicament. What Sam had done to her had scared her off the ship completely. He _should_ be more compassionate but he was finding it impossible to do anything but hold back the tide of agony that wanted to wash him away.

"Perhaps you should. He's not doing this out of the good of his heart and he's already proven that he is willing to use the Captain for his own means. You shouldn't trust him!"

"This isn't about trust!" McCoy snapped. How could she not see that? This wasn't about trust, it was about paying back all the pain that had been dumped on them, it was about making the world answer for taking Jim from them.

He could see her desperation rising though. "Who says he's even dead? This is _Jim Kirk_ we are talking about."

The hurt hit him hard in the chest, as he knew it would. He couldn't even entertain the hope that Jim was still alive. All of his reserves had been used up long ago when he'd been pulling Jim back from his brush with the reactor, and he'd been scrapping the barrel when Kodos had abducted later abducted Jim. There was nothing left. Hope had abandoned them all.

"Because I saw it!" McCoy choked brokenly, Jim's wide blue eyes burned in his memory. "They cut open his throat and let him bleed to death."

"Maybe it was't him? Maybe it didn't kill him? Maybe the holo was a fake?"

"It wasn't a fake, and it wasn't a double. The man I watched die was Jim Kirk." You couldn't fake those eyes, or the emotions in them. You couldn't fake that fear.

"Doctor McCoy…Leonard…please." Christine grabbed McCoy's arm and pulled him back. "_Think_ about this. Is this what Jim would have wanted?"

"Jim's dead." McCoy said gruffly, shocking himself by saying the words out loud. "What he wants ain't going to make a difference. You don't want to come, then don't."

"Of course I'm coming." She huffed. "Jim got me my commission back. I owe it to him to at least make sure you don't get yourself killed."

McCoy simply nodded. Maybe before he might have cared, but not any longer. "You know where everything should be. I want a full inventory, make sure we have the necessities. We leave in twelve hours."

Normally that would have been something McCoy oversaw, but he had other things to focus on and he trusted Christine's attention to detail.

"Yes sir." Christine said softly.

* * *

"So what's the plan?" He asked, stepping on to the bridge and almost choking on the wave of pain that rose when he saw the empty Captain's chair. Jim should have been sat their, throwing around that happy grin of his, excitement and contentment radiating from him to infect them all.

Spock was at his station and Sam Kirk stood with Ensign Gates as they both stood behind Uhura.

"Admiral Kormac has advanced me to Captain, as expected." Spock said emotionlessly. "Our orders are to report to the Boarderlands and protect Federation boundaries."

"And are we doing that?" McCoy asked.

"We are. Once their, however, you and I shall be accompanying Sam to Qo'noS. We will locate Jim's body and bring him home."

"And if we happen to take out a few patrols in the process…" Sam shrugged.

Spock said nothing in response to that but turned to face Sam nonetheless. "What assistance can we expect from Section 31?"

"All the assistance we need." Sam assured. "31's mission has always been to protect the Federation's interests and that won't change now we are at war. If anything, you can expect us to be a whole lot more proactive."

"Proactive how?" That was Sulu who spoke up. Despite Scott being the next in the chain of command after Spock, he had refused promotion to First Officer, prompting Spock to appoint Sulu as his XO. "Whose orders are we following here anyway? The President's?"

"In some regards." Sam nodded. "The whole purpose of 31 is to do what Starfleet cannot in order to protect the UFP. Things went a little off the tracks under Marcus – that's what happens when you bring covert and above the line operations under the helm of one person. Historically things have always worked better when you have someone like Archer leading the fleet and another commander heading up 31."

"Too bad Archer went and retired." McCoy grumbled.

"Do you think he'll come back? Now Jim's…" Uhura couldn't finish her sentence.

"I doubt it." Sam said flatly. "It makes our job more difficult, having an idiot like Kormac in charge of Fleet Ops, but not impossible. Thankfully 31 is under new management."

"Anyone we know?" McCoy asked wryly. Given that Marcus had apparently held the reigns of 31 for so long he didn't know what to make of them. Any covert operation had to be suspicious, especially one which clearly held a lot more power than an unaccountable group ever should.

Sam grinned. "Trust me. You'll know her when you meet her."


	9. Chapter 9

It might not be flu. It might be the plague. If any of you say I deserve it for being so mean to Jim et al. I'm throwing Spock out of an airlock.

I did promise I'd reveal who the new head of 31 is though, so her it is….

…it's MEEEEE. Or not. Hmm. I might be too crazy even for them…

There is a LOT happening in this chapter, so enjoy! Not much will make sense for now, but clarity (and a Jim) loom on the horizon…

* * *

Uhura caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and marveled at the changes in her own appearance. She's always believed herself to be a mature, professional woman. An adult. After all, she'd seen planets dissolve into black holes and watched countless friends and colleagues die in action. She'd faced a Klingon patrol and talked down terrorists. She ran her own department and she was never late with her reports; her skills had saved her Captain's ass more than once.

She'd been foolish. A child. Yes, she had seen and done those things, but she'd hardly been able to call herself experienced. Not until now. It was only by seeing what was lacking in her eyes that she realized how much of her innocence she had still had left.

Before all this.

Five weeks ago, Jim Kirk, her friend and her Captain, had been murdered, triggering a backlash of xenophobia that even the Battle of Vulcan had not seen follow. The people of Earth might have been willing to judge and doubt Jim on their own terms, but his public execution had turned the tide.

The Klingons, who had wanted their war for years it seemed, got their desire as the Federation took up arms in outrage.

Forty-three long, trying days had passed since, and Uhura felt the weight of all of them on her shoulders.

They did not have the luxury of time to grieve for Jim, thrown directly into battle as one of the few experienced ships left in the Fleet. Under usual circumstances, they would all be rallying around their leader. Instead they were all caught in the gravity well of the entity Jim left behind. Escape was impossible and the outcome unknown, but most likely undesirable.

Back home, they were once more being lauded as heroes. The _Enterprise _had seen more firefights than any other ship in combat. Some of the crew called it bad luck, some good luck. Others called it for what it was – they weren't sitting back and waiting for the Klingons to come to them, they were not defending the boarders, they were behind enemy lines.

They were looking for fights.

So naturally they found them. Sixteen confrontations with the Klingons since the war began. Eleven of them culminating in decisive action. They'd destroyed five Klingon ships, crippled another six. Their aggressive campaign had put them top of the Klingon's list of active targets, but they should have thought of that before murdering Jim.

Especially when Spock was primed to take his place as Captain.

Spock was perfectly capable of justifying the logic of his actions, both to himself and to Kormac, who didn't have a clue how to manage a war effectively, let alone a vengeful Vulcan.

And Spock was vengeful. He and McCoy both. If either man had eaten or slept since Jim's death, she had not seen it. They barely functioned as individuals: utterly competent in their fields, totally fixated on their goal.

And broken by the inability to either find those responsible for Jim's murder, or bring his body home.

Spock was utterly ruthless in his campaign. Sulu had the spine to tackle him about his orders, but neither the experience to back it up long term, or the will to really fight Spock on something he himself agreed with. Scotty had not been seen outside of his department in weeks, somehow managing to keep the ship functioning and fighting, despite her sorry condition.

When they weren't on duty or fighting for their lives, Uhura had to come to terms with the fact that as well as losing Jim, she was losing Spock as well.

He'd never been one for excessive displays of emotion, but he'd always allowed her the comfort of touch, even in the early days of their relationship. Now though… she slept in an empty bed and shared space with a stranger. The man who looked out at her from Spock's dark eyes was not a man she knew.

She could feel his pain radiating from him in dark waves and it broke her heart to be so helpless to save him from it.

She wondered in there would be an end to it.

She doubted it.

But still… she had learned endurance from the most courageous of men. She squared her shoulders, and prepared to face the day.

* * *

The bridge was already awash with activity when she arrived to take her post. Relieving a young Ensign, she slid into her chair and let the comfort of her work wash away the aches and pains of exhaustion and grief. She could lose herself to it if she wanted to.

Spock had not once taken Jim's chair as his own, choosing instead to move from one station to another, his hands behind his back, his eyes inscrutable. He barely acknowledged her presence and it stung.

The anomaly on the ship was still Sam Kirk. To his credit, he seemed to have some form of tact, even if he rarely exercised it. He avoided sickbay both out of curtsey to Christine Chapel, and fear McCoy might actually strap him down for vivisection. Most of his time was spent between the bridge and engineering. Scotty reluctantly allowed that he knew his way around an engine, and Spock actually ended up agreeing with Sam on tactical matters far more than he ever did with Jim. The fact that entire days could pass on the bridge without a single argument felt strange and unnatural.

She wouldn't go so far as to say Sam was to blame for many of Spock's more controversial tactical choices – Spock was more than capable of accepting responsibility for his own actions – but Sam _did_ encourage certain things that never would have happened with Jim. Jim would never have destroyed a ship outright without first extending a hand of peace. Spock and Sam mostly announced their presence, gave the standard warnings to back up and get scarce, then blasted anyone who didn't move fast enough out of the black.

She didn't like it. War made monsters out of them all.

She didn't like _Sam_, and made no secret of the fact when he sauntered onto the bridge with Scott, both covered in grease and oil, but grimly satisfied. "We fixed the aft impulse thrusters." Scott said gruffly. "You should have a wee bit more maneuverability now, but dunnae push it."

Sulu nodded gratefully. They'd lost power in the aft thrusters two days ago after a skirmish with a Bird of Prey and the lack of dexterity in their movement had clearly worried Sulu.

"Most satisfactory work." Spock inclined his head. "I appreciate you gentlemen are fatigued by your efforts, but if you are able I require your assistance in Hanger Five."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "That's what coffee's for." He said, rolling an arm back one at a time to loosen the muscles. "Lay on, McDuff."

Uhura winced, remembering a time when Jim had said those same words.

"Six minutes ago we picked up a Federation shuttle that was being pursued by Klingon scouts. The shuttle is safely in our hold and the Klingons retreated at our arrival, but I believe the shuttle took considerable damage." That explained the commotion when she arrived.

"Aye, let's take a wee look." Scott rubbed his hair back off his forehead.

"The crew of the _Carpathian_ will be transferred to sickbay but I trust that you will-"

"The _Carpathian?_ Are you sure?" Sam asked, looking suddenly very agitated.

"Yes," Sulu said, confused. "What is the problem?"

"Ah shit." Sam breathed. "_Ah shit_."

"Ah shit?" Scott looked over at her, clearly as bemused as she and Spock were.

Sam spun on his heels and raced towards the hanger bay, another "Ah shit," left behind in his wake.

Uhura and Scotty shared a glance. He shrugged. "Should we follow him?"

"I guess it's that or we leave him unsupervised." She shrugged her shoulders gently.

"Ah," Scotty cringed, sprinting down the corridor after Sam, "_shit."_

* * *

The _Carpathian's_ crew were already being seen to by McCoy by the time they arrived, a full unit of security in the hanger to eliminate any possible ploys used to trick them.

They need not have worried. As it turned out, there was only one passenger.

The woman's age was hard to determine. There were creases of wear at the corners of her blue eyes, but otherwise she looked ageless and classically beautiful, like one of the movie stars Uhura used to watch on the holos as a little girl.

With any other group of men, Uhura might have blamed that for the looks of absolute stunned disbelief the others wore when they looked at her.

Spock blinked, perhaps the only sign at all that he was struggling to accept what he was seeing. "You are Winona Kirk." He said flatly. Uhura snapped her head around in surprise.

Winona cocked her head to one side curiously and flashed them all a small, sweet smile. "You must be Commander Spock." Her voice was rich and warm, but Uhura could only gape at her in shock.

"You're Jim's mom?" She demanded, "Jim's _dead_ mom?"

"So it would seem." Winona smiled faintly. "Under normal circumstances I'd be thanking you for saving my life, but right now all I can ask is _what the fuck are you playing at?_" Her eyes – big and wide, like Jim's, dark blue and endless, like Sam's – turned to fix on her son, who had stayed at the back of the room, trying not to attract her attention. "I thought I told you to let them take the _Carpathian_?"

"You did," Sam agreed reluctantly.

Winona did not look impressed. "So why exactly am I here?"

"I can't exactly be in three places at once!" Sam protested mildly.

The woman raised a delicate eyebrow in response. "Your brother could have managed it."

"Well Jimmy's not here, is he?" Sam said sulkily. That seemed a particularly cruel thing to say to a mother who's son had just been murdered, but then did normal rules of decency even apply to Winona Kirk?

"I'm sorry, back the hell up a minute." McCoy cut the family argument off at the knees. "You're Winona Kirk." He did not seem as surprised by her identity as much as the fact that she was there, standing in front of them. Uhura imagined Jim must have shown him holos at some point in their friendship.

Winona's smile was gentle. "I am."

"Jim's mom."

"Yes."

"Jim's mom who got shot in the chest."

"Unfortunately." Winona nodded, frowning. "Not my finest moment."

"No, no, no." Mccoy waved his arm angrily. "You were dead. Jim cried over your body for _hours_." Uhura cringed. There were moment, brief and despicable though they were, that she almost felt glad Jim was dead, if only for his own peace. Life had been nothing but cruel to him.

Something pained crossed Winona's features. "Jim was very young when it happened, and he'd been badly beaten. He was terrified."

Sam muttered something under his breath, his arms crossed angrily over his chest. One look from Winona stilled him in a moment.

"Then why tell everyone you were dead? Why did you just abandon your sons?" Uhura wondered if Winona Kirk could understand the levels of disgust and dislike that laced through McCoy's voice.

If she did, it did not seem to trouble her. God, it was a miracle Jim turned out even half as well as he did coming from such a family.

"I'm not sure I owe you an explanation for anything, Doctor McCoy." Winona said mildly.

McCoy threw his arms in the air in anger. "Jesus Christ, is there anyone in your family who isn't batshit crazy? Why the _hell_ are you not dead?"

"I personally think of myself as _bug_shit crazy." Sam added unhelpfully. McCoy growled at him.

"I think perhaps the more pertinent question is thus:" Spock said quietly, cutting through the rising anger, "why are you here _now_? And why did you wish your ship to be captured by the Empire?"

"I have a pressing appointment to keep." Winona said, her voice, her smile, her eyes, all echoes of Jim's maddening behavior when he had a plan he didn't feel like sharing.

"With the Klingons?"

"Indeed."

"I'm sorry," McCoy cut in again. "Can we go back to how she's still alive?"

"You have a very one track mind, Doctor." Winona

"I have a very pissed mind." McCoy glared at her.

"You're very protective of my son." Winona looked pleased.

"Lotta good that did him." McCoy said bitterly.

Sam cringed as Winona rounded on him. "Oh Sammy." She shook her head. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes." Sam said stubbornly. "Totally."

"What the hell is she talking about?" McCoy yelled. "Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Winona turned her gaze back on McCoy and they burned with the bright intensity that had made Jim so mesmerizing to watch. "You are in the middle of a rather aggressive campaign to piss off as many Klingons as you possibly can, and you are doing a rather superb job of it, congratulations." She smiled widely. "I am attempting what was a particularly brilliant infiltration plan that you shot out of the black with your hero complexes."

"You wanted the Klingons to capture you." Spock observed.

"Obviously." Winona sighed.

"For what purpose?"

"Extraction."

"How does that even work?" McCoy looked at Spock for answers and when nothing was forthcoming, to Uhura. She shrugged.

Winona did not look impressed. "Okay, let's break this down, shall we?" her lovely face was completely free of malice or anger, but there was an edge to her voice that very much said she held all the cards. "You and your crew are here for one purpose. I am here for another. Those two purposes should not cross paths, but apparently my eldest son is incapable of following instructions like the adult he professes to being." Sam's flinch was minuscule, but Uhura caught it. "Now please, Commander. Do yourself a favor. Have your engineers fix my shuttle and let me do my job."

"Your extraction?" Spock clarified.

"Precisely." Winona's smile was edged. "It's in both of our best interests."

"And if I chose to detain you?" Spock towered over her – she was an inch shorter than Uhura and just as slender.

"Then I will just make it an order."

"And what the hell gives you the authority to order us to do anything?" McCoy scowled at her, then he paused, assessing. "You're still in 31."

Sam finally stepped forwards. "She _is_ 31."


	10. Chapter 10

Yay! I've been waiting to bring Winona back into play now for 150k! I'm glad most of you guessed it would be her, especially after hinting at it for the past three stories :p

I know some of you are worried that they haven't found Jim yet, and that the crew are acting a bit (okay, a lot) out of sorts. Please, just hang in here with me and I promise you'll get your answers. Trust me. Also, there is much debate over who Frank was in relation to Winona. In the film, he was her brother. In the novelization, he was her second husband. I've gone with the former.

I do love how you are so quick to think the worst of Winona, of Sam – okay, so he's not done himself any favors – of me…. probably better not continue, actually…. Yes.

The plague is still hanging around. At least all I have to do now to rid myself of the tribbles you keep sending is breathe on them.

On, and T-Minus 10 to the return of Jim! Please forgive the slow expositiony chapter. Explosions are just around the corner...

* * *

McCoy stared at the woman who stood in front of them, his hands clenched so tightly into fists he could feel his nails digging into his palms.

"You're the head of Starfleet's crazy, war mongering, back stabbing, psychopath filled black ops division?" McCoy looked her up and down and reminded himself of all the things he knew her to have done. She looked so kind and gentle, utterly harmless really. Long hair loose behind down her back, wide eyes open and inviting confidence and honesty. She didn't look like a spy, or a soldier, or the evil mastermind behind a clandestine government operation.

She didn't look like the type of person who shot their nine year old son with a phaser just so he knew what it felt like.

"War mongering?" Winona frowned, tilting her head so she could look him in the eye. "Doctor, I fear you have the wrong impression of what it is Section 31 does."

"Manipulates people into nearly starting wars then tries to murder them all to cover their tracks?" McCoy said with saccharine acidity.

"Alex Marcus was crazy." Winona said flatly. "He abused his power to further his own ends. What he did was _not_ what 31 is about. We were, we _should be,_ the first line of defense against the Federation's enemies. We do what Starfleet cannot to protect our world."

"No to point out the obvious or nothin'," Scotty said mildly, "but I dunnae think this really counts." He waved an arm around, indicating the _Enterprise_. She'd taken some hefty hits over the past few weeks.

"War with the Klingons was Alex's design, not mine." Winona said firmly. "This is the last thing I wanted."

"Jim always said a war was coming." Uhura put in defensively. He'd been saying that for longer than he was Captain. He'd actually written several of his Academy papers on it, which had lead to some interesting – and heated - classroom debates.

Winona turned to her. "It was. Just not for us. One of 31's primary objectives was to stir up tensions between the Klingons and the Romulans. It was only a matter of time before the Klingons pushed for all out conflict – we were angling to deflect their attention on someone else. The Romulans posed the second most pressing threat to us, so we worked to turn them against one another."

"Then what happened?" Scotty asked. "Because we nay be gettin' in the middle."

Winona's expression shifted to something vastly impatient. "Marcus took control of 31 after I left. He did not share the same goals, even after I re-enlisted. By the time I realized that someone on the inside was compromising our operations, he'd already moved against me. I was slow, and I was stupid, and what happened was my fault. Marcus tried to take me out of the picture and he used my boys to do it. The fact that I survived was luck, nothing more."

"Is that how you justify it to yourself?" McCoy asked coldly, recalling Jim's memories. It was as easy as pulling up a file on his PADD. Unable to let Jim go, he'd found himself pulling up those memories more and more frequently in the last five weeks. Sometimes it was impossible to sort his own mind from Jim's memories, no escape from them even in sleep. He'd considered asking Spock to help him organize them, but selfishly held on to what little he had left of Jim. "That's how you justify abandoning them."

"I didn't have a choice." There it was. There was the edge of icy coldness that McCoy had seen so many times in Jim's memories. "I _was_ shot. I didn't fake that. Marcus wanted to make it look like I'd tangled with the wrong crooks, but the men who took Jim to lure me out were his. Barnett had orders to leave my body behind to further the impression that I'd made one too many enemies and I'd run out of luck. By the time I was found…had recovered, the boys were already safe on Earth. After what happened… it was safer for them if no one knew I had survived."

She made it sound so selfless, so loving. And who knew, maybe if Jim and Sam had gone on to have normal, safe, carefree childhoods, McCoy might have bought it.

But her actions, well meaning or not, had delivered her children into the hands of one psychopath after another. They'd seen Sam locked away on a hell hole of a prison colony for over a decade and Jim forced into a self imposed exile. McCoy might not like or condone a single thing Sam had done, but he also didn't place the blame for it entirely on the man's shoulders. Sam, like Jim, was a product of his environment. He'd not been as strong as Jim, but then really, who was?

"Safer." McCoy echoed in disbelief. "With Frank the child molester or Kodos the mass murdering psychopath?" He caught the minute jerk of her head at the mention of her brother's name.

"Sam?"

Sam crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "What?"

"What is he talking about?" She demanded.

"You don't know?" McCoy laughed bitterly, an edge of sadistic pleasure forming in his chest at the shock on her face. "The big bad head of Section 31 doesn't even know what her own brother used to do to her children while she was off playing dead."

She didn't look at him, her focus only on Sam. "I know he's in jail. I know he put Jim in the hospital."

"And what you thought that was just an isolated event?" McCoy sneered.

"Doctor." Spock warned him off gently.

"No!" McCoy yelled. "She doesn't get to walk away from this." He rounded on Sam. "You want to tell her or shall I?" Sam said nothing. Frank had beaten him frequently before he'd run away, but he'd never taken it further the way he had with Jim. Since it had only escalated after Sam had left Jim alone with their uncle, McCoy wasn't certain if that was due to Frank's taste or his desire to have Jim completely isolated from help.

"George." Winona said sternly. For a moment McCoy was confused, until he remembered that Sam's name was actually George Samuel Kirk. Given what had happened to his father, it was no surprise he went by Sam. Calling him by his given name seemed to be Winona's way of doing what McCoy's mother had done when she 'Leonard Horatio McCoy'd' him. It had the same effect.

"What does it matter?" Sam finally snapped. "You going to go back in time and change things?"

"I never meant for you boys to be hurt, I told you that." Winona said earnestly.

"Well forgive me if I don't believe you, mom." Sam sneered. "Now if it's all the same to you, I'd like to leave the touching family drama for someone else. I signed on to this gig because it's the right thing to do. Not because I give a damn about you, or have any intention of ever forgiving you."

In that brief moment, McCoy thought he might have been able to like Sam Kirk. He saw in him the same angry, scared, hurting teenager he'd seen in Jim's memories and couldn't help but pity him.

"Jim is alive, isn't he?" Spock stilled them all with the quiet words he spoke and McCoy clenched his fists in rage as he spun around sharply from Sam's outburst. Spock looked as calm and composed as ever, but his eyes were fixed on Winona with something close to hatred.

But Winona smiled, pleased. "I was starting to wonder if people were wrong when they said how smart you all were."

Hope rose quickly in McCoy's chest, threatening to choke him. "What?"

"He's alive." Winona said simply. "He checked in with us seventy two hours ago."

There were no words to describe the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn't believe her.

He couldn't dare let himself hope only to have it snatched away from him.

He was not the only one.

"Why would you say that?" Uhura cried angrily.

"It's the truth." Winona matched her anger with calmness. "He can look, if you like." She jerked her head at Spock in invitation. Spock did not hesitate but she pulled back a step. "With Sam." She said with a half smile. "Sorry, but I'm not about to let anyone go poking around in my head when I have a war to win."

"Do I even get a say in this?" Sam glared at her.

"Do as you're told, Samuel." Winona snapped.

"No." Sam said, clearly as hurt as he was angry. "No way." It was nearly enough to make McCoy rethink his overwhelming urge to rip him apart. Nearly. He knew? He knew Jim was alive?

Jim was alive.

Spock stilled and tuned back to Winona. "I will not force him."

"Have it your own way." She shrugged. "Though I'll admit I'm a little surprise. Thought we'd squashed all those morals out of you by now. You've certainly given that impression the last few weeks."

Spock could feel the anger rapidly building behind the placid exterior Spock presented to the world. "It perplexes me greatly," he said softly, dangerously, "how you can claim to love your sons only to repeatedly send them into danger."

"I never sent Jim to the Klingons." Winona said darkly. "He came up with that brilliant plan on by himself. And then managed to start a war."

"Then how is he alive?" McCoy choked. "We saw them kill him."

"The Klingons have their allies on our side. We have ours on theirs. You've met one of them, I believe." She threw Sam a dirty look and McCoy recalled the Klingon he had attempted to trade the dilithium crystal from the _Enterprise's_ warp core the year before. "He was able to get word to me of their plans to execute Jim. We were late, but fortunately not too late."

"Then where is he?" McCoy demanded, finally unable to stop the hope that had blossomed in his heart. "Why keep him from us?"

"His 'death' presented a unique opportunity." Winona said. "We maximized its potential. And no," she added in a more gentle tone of voice, "he did not know you believed him dead. He never would have gone along with our plans if he did."

"And why has he assisted you?" Spock demanded.

"Because he's practical and we are at war." Winona said as if it should have been obvious. "Despite what this conversation might have suggested, now is not the time for personal feelings to interfere with the mission. You were kept in the dark about his condition because I imagine Sam believed you more amenable to your orders if were too angry to question them."

Sam shrugged his shoulders in response.

"And what are our orders?" Spock's voice was glacial.

"Distraction." Winona said simply. "Destruction."

"And Jim's?"

Winona's smile was terrifyingly sharp. "What Jim does best: devestation."


	11. Chapter 11

Hehehehe! That's a whole lot of hate for everyone coming from you guys! Hate for Sam, hate for Winona, for me, for the crew... It's hate central! You should probably stop worrying though - every sane person who has ever spoken about Winona thinks she is off her rocker crazy, so a redemption arc is looking pretty unlikely at this point :p for her, or Sam for that matter.

And as for cuddles and squishiness and happy making friendships, I promise the academy fic is 80% Jim and Bones being adorable and only 20% them doing things that make Pike question his sanity.

In all seriousness though, thank you for hanging in here with me and trusting me with the characters, even when they seem absolutely psycho crazy and unhinged.

Speaking of psycho crazy... Is that a Jim I spy?

* * *

Jim was having a shitty day. Several shitty days in a row, actually, and when a usual twenty four hours in his life resulted in at least one attempt to kill him, he figured he was perfectly justified in his epically bad mood.

"_You might want to move faster, human_." The tinny voice in his ear was just one of several things stacking up to piss him off. The next time he saw Kor, he was ripping the asshole's tongue out, see him be so bitchy then.

He bit back on the retort that instantly sprang to mind and followed the map on his visor down the dimly lit corridor. As well as being blood thirsty sonsovbitches Klingons apparently had poor interior decorating skills.

_"Faster, human. Move those short legs of yours or your brains'll end up decorating the walls. You do _have _brains, don't you human_?"

"How about _you _come down and do this, huh Kor? Oh that's right, you can't. So shut your mouth." Jim snapped testily. God, he hated the bastard. He hated pretty much everything about his life at that point, not least of which was the fact that he was currently ten levels deep in what was supposed to be the most secure military research facility on the Klingon homeworld.

It had taken almost three weeks to get as far as they had and this was the final phase of the batshit crazy plan that Marlentes and Archer had laid out for him before he had left Earth. That seemed like another lifetime ago. It was hard to believe he'd ever had his own home, a warm bed. At this point he was so on edge he had problems remembering anything that existed outside of his current task. It was better that way. He couldn't take the risks he was taking when he remembered he had people waiting for him back at home.

Or out there in the black somewhere anyway. He might have been off the radar but some information from the outside worlds did filter through various channels of communication they passed and the _Enterprise_ came up frequently. Jim didn't think about that much either, except to plot all the ways he was going to kick Archer's ass, old man or not. His ship was by no means ready for combat, and neither were his crew. They were supposed to be safe on Earth, pissed at Jim but out of danger, not picking fights with every Klingon ship they encountered.

Jim absently touched the healed skin at his throat. It didn't hurt the way it once did, but it was sore when it rubbed under the high necked jacket he wore. There in lay another, very physical, reminder of why he didn't trust Archer and Marlentes to uphold their part of the bargain. At no point had anyone mentioned they'd be cutting his damn throat.

"_Human! Kirk!"_ In fairness, Kor wasn't as bad as Jim made him out to be. Mostly Jim swung between mistrust and dislike and the feelings were very clearly mutual, but for all that Jim was the one putting his life on the line, Kor was risking a whole lot more by helping him.

"Shit, sorry." Jim shook his head and focused on the task at hand. A soon as this was over, he was taking a damn vacation someplace warm and uninhabited by anything more sentient or intelligent than a slug.

Keeping close to the walls, Jim crept down the corridor. His target was the turbo lift at the far end, but to get there he had to bypass three motion sensors and a heat detector. The heat detector was one of the primary reasons it was Jim who was making the infiltration, not Kor. The defenses around the Klingon homeworld were all but impossible to penetrate without a prolonged and costly offensive attack. Getting someone behind enemy lines was something that had never before been achieved through neither stealth or force.

But Jim had been invited.

The initial plan had been for Kor to help him stage a breakout once under arrest and continue on with infiltration from within the planet's defensive markers. When they'd gone all out on the offensive and tried to kill him, they'd upped their game. Jim knew he was lucky to be alive. There weren't many people who could have pulled Jim back from that type of wound, but Kor's brother was a battlefield medic and had done a fairly decent patch job. General consensus was that Jim should not have survived, but much like the vicious beating he had taken on Cerberus, the wounds had healed quickly, leaving only surface damage behind. There was another thing Jim was not thinking about. Bad enough he had khan's blood in his veins... He couldn't stomach the thought of it having any lingering effects on his physiology, but even Bones admitted it could be years before they understood how Jim had been effected by the transfusion.

There were more than enough deranged psychopaths in his life for him to risk becoming another.

"_I thought you were supposed to be good at this_." Kor said gruffly in his ear as Jim set about bypassing the sensors on a small remote device. The heat sensors were calibrated for Klingon body heat signatures, so Jim was able to move freely in that respect, but he had to rely on his more practical skills to work beyond the other security measures.

"Less bitching, more encouragement, please." Jim said pleasantly. He'd learned that his Klingon companion had a temper that could put Bones's to shame and found an inordinate amount of pleasure in winding him up. A man had to get his fun somewhere, especially when surrounded by beings who very literally wanted to see his head on a pike.

"_You want me to hold your hand, little girl_?" Kor said scornfully.

"Sure, and set off the heat detectors while you're at it. Good thinking."

Kor responded with a very unpleasant string of insults that Jim took to memory in order to share with Uhura when he got back. The two of them had started an insult war in the first stages of their service together. Nothing sped up a long shift staring into the black than trying to out insult a woman who could mock you in over thirty different dialects and then make some more up just for fun.

Jim focused back on the small PADD in his hand, strings of utter gibberish filling the screen. He'd never tried coding anything in Klingon before, and it was just as hard to get his head around as it had been trying to unpick Spock's Vulcan influenced Koboyashi. His own decryption program had fallen down at the task, forcing Jim to have spent much of the past week writing something new - a trying task when _not_ skulking through sewers and running for their lives.

But his hard work paid off. After a moment, the code started to mutate, allowing Jim access to the mainframe that he'd been unable to get from outside the building. He made a soft sound of success then bolted from the spot he had hidden himself in. "Okay, you should be getting access to the cameras now." He told Kor.

Sure enough, Kor quickly responded. "_Take the second exit_."

"Blueprints say to take the lift." Jim said, already rounding the second as told.

"_Do the blueprints have a live feed of the security team making their way towards you_?"

"Fair point." Jim conceded. "What's the best way down from there?"

"_Stairs_."

Jim grumbled. "All thirty four flights?"

"_Thought you were fighting fit, human_."

"Oh sure, sure." Jim was fighting fit thanks largely to the rapidly dwindling supply of drugs he'd scammed from Kor's brother. He wasn't even sure what names they went by, but he'd checked their chemical components against his list of allergies and taken a risk. Bones was going to have a nervous breakdown when he got a look at the mess Jim had made of himself, but it wasn't like he had a whole lot of options. He took the clear shot to keep him moving and the blue shot to keep him passing out when his body had enough of the abuse he was putting it through.

Still, it wasn't like he could expect sympathy from Kor and threw himself down the first flight of stairs three steps at a time. Going down: not a problem. Getting back up again... That would suck.

"_Get a move on human. Sooner we do what we came to do, sooner you are reunited with your beloved family_."

"Thought we agreed not to talk about either of of families, Kor." Jim said pleasantly enough, a slight edge to his voice that made it clear he wasn't above playing dirty. Kor's family were the main reason he was there.

The Klingon said nothing and Jim continued to race down the stairs. God, he was out of shape. Even though he'd actually managed to pack on some muscle, if not a huge amount of weight, keeping up with a battle ready Klingon was a taxing job, and Kor did no make any allowances for either his human physiology or his weakened state. In his mind, if Jim was the man the federation deemed most suitable to carry out the job, then Jim should be able to do said job without moaning.

The fact that Jim wasn't so much the best person but the only one didn't seem to matter.

"_More speed_." Kor prompted him.

"You are _not_ helping." Jim grumbled as he hit the lowest level of the building. He was beneath the main laboratory, in the foundations of the building. There wasn't a whole lot down there but storage.

And the support infrastructure of the whole site.

Jim slung the bag off the back of his shoulder and headed for his main point.

The research that went on in this building represented the main weapons manufacturing point of the planet. Its destruction would set back development by months, possibly even years, and it would force the Klingons to preserve their current stock carefully. It wouldn't cripple their military structure, far from it, but it would wound them badly.

At least that was the official stance. The spiel Marlentes had given him.

Personally Jim didn't buy it. There was something in the lab that the Klingons were working on that had Federation higher-ups so damn twitchy that they had risked the success of destroying it on an physically limited, emotionally compromised asset.

Jim never thought he'd be anyone's Hail Mary, but there he was, strapping enough sonic explosives to structurally integral foundations of the building to bring the whole thing down around him.

While simultaneously running a subroutine through the building's mainframe, looking for an anomaly that might explain why the hell it was so important Jim light the fuse.

"_What's taking so long, human_?" Kor demanded.

"Again, if you want to come down here and speed up the process, be my guest." Jim said, setting the charges with experienced hands and not a huge amount of higher thinking. Once upon a time he'd sworn he'd never do anything like this ever again. Jim was never saying never again. Fate liked to make him her bitch.

With the last of the charges set, Jim turned his full attention to the PADD. There was nothing out of the ordinary. At that time of night, the life signs in the building were low and would be lower once Jim triggered the silent alarms and forced a site wide evacuation. He might be okay blowing up years of scientific research, but not so much with innocent civilians, Klingon or not.

He checked the site layout against the engineering blueprints, then ran down each level one at a time, looking for something that stood out, or didn't.

In the end, it was the garbage that caught his attention.

On the same level Jim was currently situated on, the garbage room was running a near constant, and extremely elevated, level of power. It made no sense. Jim had already checked the schedules for every department in the building, and maintenance ran disposal twice a day – first thing in the morning, and at close of business in the evening.

Not at the ass-crack of night. And certainly not on a continuous loop.

Jim didn't trust Kor enough to let him in on his suspicions. Kor had been the one to leak the information and much of the plant's design to the Federation. His wife had been a scientist there, until an accident in one of the labs had killed both her and Kor's unborn child.

Jim was sympathetic, he really was, but even after several weeks in his company, he'd not yet established a motive for why Kor was betraying everything about his heritage and society to help them, and that did not sit well with him. Jim did not like being kept out of the loop, especially in light of recent revelations.

So he stayed silent as he moved towards the garbage unit, rounding a corner and walking straight into a three-man unit that had not shown up on any of the cameras or sensors.

Jim didn't ask himself why a garbage disposal unit would require armed guards, and dropped down to one knee. He pulled his phaser out from the holster at his thigh and dropped all three as adrenaline heightened his senses and sharpened his reaction time.

They never stood a chance.

Neither did the heavily secured door that lay behind the fallen unit.

Jim was on a roll. He was in his element. He turned his PADD to the console and ripped apart its defenses in forty nine seconds.

Say what you liked about their levels of sanity, but both his mom and Kodos had been right to encourage his computer based interests. Sometimes, when he felt particularly pissed with the world, Jim entertained the thought of hiding himself behind a desk for the rest of his life and doing all his dirty work from a safe distance.

The thoughts never lasted, but Jim had never met a system he couldn't beat, and somehow that gave him a sense of security and strength that he couldn't find anywhere other than at his chair on the bridge.

The door slid open with a hydrolic hiss and Jim slipped inside.

It only took his a second to understand what he was seeing.

"Kor, we need to abandon the mission." Jim breathed.

"_Why_?" Kor demanded.

"Because I found what the scientists were working on." Jim would recognize it in a second, despite never having seen it for himself. He'd only ever seen its more developed form, innocuous and devastating as it hung in stasis on Ambassador Spock's ship from the alternate timeline. "And I think I know how your wife died."

He heard Kor's intake of breath. "_Whatever it is, it's no reason to retreat now_." He said firmly.

Jim circled the large vat that stood prominent in the room. "Dexailithium. They're trying to create Red Matter." The science for the process only existed on New Vulcan, as far as he had known, and Ambassador Spock was sure as hell not sharing the technique that had caused the destruction of Romulus, Vulcan, and the _Narada._

"_Set the charges, human_."

"Don't you understand? Even in it's raw form, we ignite this much dexilithium it's going to take out the whole damn planet." Kor said nothing and understanding fell on Jim in a chilling wave. "But you knew that, didn't you? That's been the purpose all along." Still Kor said nothing. "You'd kill twelve billion of your own people…you'd give your life doing so…for what?"

"_Honor, Kirk. Something you know nothing about_."

Jim sprinted from the room, back to where he'd left the charges ready to blow. They were on a remote detonator that Jim could trigger as soon as he was clear of the blast radius, but that didn't mean Kor couldn't gain access, not when they were both piggybacking the same system. "How is this honorable?"

"_My people have lost their way."_

"Your _people_ don't deserve to die!" Jim yelled, "and what the hell is in it for you?"

"_Vindication_."

"You won't be vindicated, asshole, you'll be _dead_. I'll be dead. Everyone will be dead. How is that a victory?"

"_Qo-noS has no longer represents the interests of the Empire. Much like your Earth. But in it's destruction, my race will emerge stronger, united_."

"Why the hell do I always manage to attract the crazy ones?" Jim demanded, more to himself than Kor. "You're absolutely fucking crazy. Seriously, how the hell did you even come up with a plan so utterly batshit insane and why the hell did you drag me into it?"

"_Your involvement was not my choice. I came to your Section 31 with a goal. Bringing you here, it was your mother's idea. She believed you the right man for the job_."

Jim bounced painfully off the edge of a wall in surprise. "My mom. My dead mom. She told you to blow up a planet full of billions of people." Now he'd heard everything. "Man, you are _complete_ off the radar."

Jim dropped to his knees by the hub of the charges he'd set and reached for the detonator.

Shit, Kor had managed to arm it.

Jim just had to disarm it in…ninety seconds. Jesus Christ.

Which was, naturally, the exact moment the relief patrol for the unit Jim had stunned decided to walk out of the elevator and pretty much trip over him.

With Jim on his knees and a lap full of sonic explosives, he wasn't able to reach his weapon in time, and they all leveled with rifles at his head. "Gentleman." Jim swallowed. "I appreciate this looks bad…" _understatement, Kirk_, Jim kicked himself, "but I really need to disarm this before it blows up, taking us, this building and the whole damn planet with it, so I'd appreciate it if maybe you could not shoot me. For one minute." Jim said. "Then you can shoot me as much as you like and I won't complain. Much."

The patrol looked at one another, then back at Jim, who tried to smile in a way that didn't say 'deranged terrorist'.

As one, they raised their rifles higher and took aim.


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry for the absence the last few days! Plague and work conspired against me. This part is fairly short and action-y but I promise epic emotional h/c is on the horizon. Hefty amounts of the h, equally large amounts of the c. Promise!

(On that note, I have decided on the plot line for the next project I'm writing: Xenopolycythemia! Mwaha. I mean….

I will now bid you farewell as I depart for climes anew. I'll see you all in November! Have a rockin' Halloween!

* * *

Winona's words did not have long to hang in the air. After a moment of stunned silence, the hanger bay erupted into sound and color as the ship took a round of enemy fire.

"_Bridge to Captain Spock_."

"Spock here." Spock kept one eye on Winona as he responded to the comm. "Report, Lieutenant."

"We're taking heavy fire from a Klingon Bird of Prey. They came out of nowhere, sir."

"Sound red alert," Spock ordered, "I'm on my way." The closed the comm. "Escort them to the brig." Spock said stiffly, looking at Winona and Sam, orders issued to the assembled security officers.

"Hey, what did I do?" Sam protested as Giotto firmly took a hold of his arm. Spock's glare was glacial enough to penetrate even Sam's oblivion and he recoiled. "I thought it was for the best." He muttered, looking at his feet.

"You're making a mistake." Winona said calmly. "This is not a fight you can win on your own."

"We are not alone." Spock responded coolly. "Separate cells." He ordered security. "No audio. Do not leave them unsupervised for a moment."

He made a quick exit without waiting to see his orders enforced, the rest of the bridge crew and McCoy on his heels.

"Report." Spock demanded before anyone could even announce his presence on the bridge.

Responses came rapidly from all stations in what looked to McCoy to be complete and utter chaos. Organized chaos, Jim had called it, completely at his element when ten different people were all shouting things at him at once.

"Single Klingon Bird of Prey."

"Not responding to our hails."

"Shields at seventy nine percent."

"Evasive maneuvers." Spock told Sulu. Traditionally it was the Captain's job to tell his helmsman _which_ maneuvers to use. Jim never had, trusting Sulu's instincts, and neither did Spock.

"Aye sir." Sulu said calmly, already drawing fire from the Klingon ship.

"Shields at sixty five percent."

The bridge shuddered as they took a glancing hit. McCoy grabbed hold of the science station to steady himself.

"Sixty one percent."

"Fire phasers, starboard hull." Spock ordered, surveying the multitude of information being relayed to him and responding in a split second. It was a talent McCoy had admired in Jim, and equally in Spock. He had similar decisions to make in surgery, often in as little time, but this environment was completely alien to him.

"Aye Captain."

"Their shields are holding sir."

"Fire again."

The bridge lurched once more, this time so violently that McCoy stumbled. The strong hands of E'lax the white-eyed Tactical Officer steadied him, though he barely even turned from his station.

"Sir, they're no longer firing."

"Captain, I'm getting something from the enemy ship." They turned their heads to Uhura, who sat at her station looking utterly perplexed.

"Can you open a channel?" Spock asked her.

"No sir." She shook her head. "It's…it's in Morse Code."

That stunned them all. Morse Code was very rarely used in the Federation any longer, let alone the Klingon Empire.

"What does the message say?"

"I think…" she looked up hopefully, "I think it's saying '_how the hell did you miss us? We're 500,00 meters in front of you for christsake"._

"Hold fire!" Spock's raised voice achieved obedience even faster than his orders as the crew looked at each other with slowly building trepidation. McCoy shared a glance with Spock, his heart pounding in his chest because _who else_ would send them that message?

Jim was on that ship. _Jim was on that ship._

"Try hailing them again." Spock ordered Uhura.

"I am. There's no response."

"Sir, they're arming weapons again." Sulu informed them.

The crew waited with baited breath for Spock to give the orders.

The bridge rattled violently as they took a direct hit.

"Shields at thirty two percent. We can't take another hit like that."

McCoy looked at Spock in panic. They couldn't take another hit like that and survive, but how could they risk firing at a ship that Jim could be on?

"Engineering to Bridge."

"_Scott here."_

"How much power can you divert to shields?"

"_You've already got everything we can spare, sir_!" Scott was out of breath and high strung.

"Then ignite auxiliary power." Spock demanded.

"I did that two direct bloody hits ago!" Scott yelled back. "Captain, we cannae take a breach to the hull without compromising the entire ship and I dunnae have anything left ta give ya."

"Damage reports coming in, Captain." E'lax reported. "Decks 8 though 11."

Spock turned back to face the Klingon ship hovering in the space beyond.

"Arm torpedoes." He said quietly.

"Aye sir." Sulu responded in a voice to match.

"Spock, you can't seriously be thinking about destroying that ship!" McCoy yelled, surging forward as they took another glancing hit.

"I have little choice, Doctor." Spock said, his voice calm and rational even as something raw and broken flashed in his oddly human eyes.

"And if Jim's on board?" McCoy demanded, all but shaking with rage. "You're going to just blow him out of space?"

There was a collective shock of breath around the bridge at Jim's name, but Spock was unmoved.

"Fire torpedoes, Mr Sulu." He said.

"Spock!" McCoy bellowed, all but lunging for the Vulcan and loosing his footing as they took yet another glancing barrage of fire.

"There are four hundred people on this ship." Spock snarled at him, momentarily revealing the turmoil beneath his placid exterior. McCoy heard what wasn't said. Four hundred people, Jim's crew, all of who Spock had taken on responsibility for in the wake of Jim's death.

It made no difference. A moment later the torpedo hit target, a large explosion taking out the aft hull of the Klingon ship. It was a perfect hit, triggering a chair reaction of destruction that blew the entire ship into a firy ball of debris and sulpher.

McCoy stared in horror at the blaze of fire before it was sucked into the vacuum of space, only the scattered remains of the destroyed ship remaining, strewn before them like bones.

Spock took a step forward, then sank, elegant but broken, into Jim's abandoned chair, his face a picture of frozen distress.

It was Sulu who took charge of the silence that followed. "Doctor McCoy, your presence is probably required in Medical." He said, his voice kind yet authoritative. He'd picked that up from Jim.

_Jim._

How many times was Bones doomed to lose his friend?

"Keptain?" Chekov's quite, concerned voice spoke up, surprising them all. "I do not know how to intewpret this," he said, "but it appears someone accessed our transporter contwols from outside the ship. I…I think someone has beamed aboard, but I cannot gain access to the computers to werify."

Spock looked up, his face a devastating contrast of fear and hope, just as the bridge door slid open silently.

Jim Kirk stood at the entrance to the bridge, oblivious to the mixed looks of shock, surprise and horror he was being given by the crew around him. His head was shaved, several bloody, messy wounds, some of which look like they were held together with old fashioned sutures, curved around the back of his skull. Blue eyes blazed slightly manically above a nose that had clearly been broken in the last few days and not set properly, and he wore a strange combination of body armor and civilian blacks, most of which were torn, bloody or singed.

Spock, surprisingly, was the first to find their voice. "Jim?" He asked, almost in disbelief. McCoy couldn't blame him. He hadn't quite had the time or the courage to accept what Spock and Winona – ha, Winona goddamn Kirk- had been saying: that Jim was alive, and then after what had just happened…

And yet there Jim was, standing on the bridge as if they hadn't all witness his murder and he didn't look like he'd just crawled out of yet another warzone, nonchalant and unrepentant, white teeth and a bloody smile. "So just a heads up," he said, utterly blasé in the face of the white noise that was growing inside McCoy's head, "Qo-noS? Not a great vacation spot this time of year."

They all stared at him in shock. Even Spock made no move to approach him.

Jim wavered a little on the spot. Only barely, only a minuscule tremor that you needed several long and frantic years of study to spot, but it was there. McCoy moved forwards on autopilot.

By the time he was only a few steps away from Jim, he was able to see beyond the smiling, joking face Jim presented to the utter exhaustion behind it.

McCoy wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout his happiness to the world.

He wanted to hug the little bastard; drag him down to sickbay and check every reckless inch of him and heal all the hurts. He wanted to keep Jim with him, on this ship, and never let him out of his sight again.

He looked into Jim's blue eyes – a sight more familiar to him than his own daughter's face – and could find neither the words or the actions to express himself.

Jim's smile softened from something manic and dangerous to genuine pleasure and warmth. "Hey Bones." He said softly.

Bones.

The word triggered his response. He found the emotion he most wanted to express, and the way in which to do it.

And with barely a second thought or conscious choice, he stepped forward and punched Jim in the jaw.


	13. Chapter 13

Hi everyone, did you have a good couple of weeks? I'm now completely mellowed out and zen like and come armed with fic! Lots of fic! I'm going to be a bit sporadic for the next week or so while I catch up on all the things I neglected while I was away, but I figured it was better to drop in now and then instead of leaving you hanging an extra week. To everyone who sent me notes, messages or death threats, I will respond ASAP. I missed you guys!

Anyway, to answer some of the questions that arose while I was gone:

This is the last story in this arc. Meaning I plan on getting our crew to the place they are in at the very end of STID. You should hopefully know by now that as mean as I am, I need happy endings!

So yes, I promise much fic is to come your way. Xxx

(And just a heads up, this part is hurty! You'll get why I didn't want to leave you with it. I know some of you are going to probably be mad at various and sundry characters - and me, probably!- but as always I ask that you hang in there. There is comfort on the horizon to counter all this hurt. Promise!)

* * *

Spock was possibly the only one who was not shocked by the sudden violence that exploded out of McCoy. Far from surprise, he was in fact strangely moved to sympathy for the doctor. McCoy, perhaps even more so than Spock himself, had been whittled away to little more than his barest emotions in the wake of Jim's clearly fabricated death.  
Even McCoy looked surprised by his own actions. He stared at Jim, who reeled backwards with the force of the blow but rapidly coiled for violence himself. Spock observed him with a disconnected sort of curiosity and recognized the tightly strung tension in Jim's neck and shoulders that spoke of preexisting injury and the plan to fight despite it.

Having never known Jim to back down from a confrontation, Spock fully expected an escalation of the violence, but Jim eventually relaxed, his shoulders loosening and his stance shifting to something far less threatening, despite his outwardly rough appearance.

"Okay, so I probably deserved that." Jim admitted reluctantly. "Nice form."

McCoy looked as if he had multiple responses to Jim's statement, but though he opened his mouth, no word was formed. Taking into account prior data from pervious exchanges that followed some folly of Jim's, Spock now expected the two men to embrace or perhaps insult one another, but was both surprised and disturbed when McCoy simply shook his head and turned away from Jim. "I'll be in sickbay if you need me." He informed them, his voice flat and unemotional. Jim was not the only one who gaped at him as he left the bridge.

"Bones." Jim called after his friend, hand reaching for McCoy's arm. The doctor avoid him deftly and disappeared into the lift without further comment.

The expression on Jim's face would once have stirred Spock to disapproval, and later to pain. Now he found his protective instincts at war with the well of anger that lived inside him.

He paused a moment to recognize the irony of his situation. He always had said Jim made him feel more human...

"I believe we have much to discuss." He found himself speaking without thought, his eyes locked with Jim's.

Logic demanded he hear all sides of the story.

Friendship demanded no less.

Jim nodded curtly and followed him to the ready room. No one moved to join them. No one dared.

"You have the con, Mr Sulu." Spock commanded, then the door closed.

"Should I even ask that the hell you've done to my ship?" Jim asked tiredly, sinking sideways into the chair he had always occupied, no thought given to the gesture. Spock did not mind, and had never taken that particular seat for himself in any case. He found himself fetching them both water from a replicator and placing a bottle in front of Jim, who gave a start of surprise, then hungrily gulped his way through the entirety.

The gesture forced Spock to pay closer attention to the condition Jim had appeared in, and for a brief moment his anger gave way to concern.

The man sat in front of him was barely recognizable as the man Spock had believed lost to them. Even recovering from his physical traumas, Jim had been instantly identifiable by his golden hair, clear blue eyes and commanding presence.

It looked as if Jim's hair had been shaved, or perhaps cut, roughly and with little care for aesthetics. Thee were bloody wounds that had been closed with surgical structures dotting both his skull and the side of his face. His skin, which had lacked its usual golden tone after his time in the hospital, now appeared parched of sunlight entirely, and dark circles ringed bloodshot eyes.

What caused him the most concern however was the ugly, raw appearing wound at his throat that only revealed itself as Jim's clothing had shifted to accommodate his drinking.  
"I will call doctor McCoy to see to your injuries." He reached for the comm only to be stilled by Jim's jerk of surprise.

"It's not necessary." Jim said tiredly. "It looks worse than it is."

"It looks," Spock said, coldness creeping back into his voice, "as though someone slit your throat open."

To his credit, Jim gave no indication that he was hurt or upset by Spock's tone of voice. "It's been a bitch of a few months, but then I get the feeling it's not exactly been fun and games for you guys either. What the hell happened, Spock? Why is the _Enterprise_ even in the black?"

Spock disliked how easily Jim had deflected attention away from himself, but was carefully trying to keep his anger in check, and so allowed Jim his diversion.

He did not, however, intend on being gentle. "You lied to us," he began bluntly, "we watched you walk into the hands of enemy forces; we watched them murder you. As did the entirety of the Federation, which is perhaps why they were so quickly and easily able to rally to arms when the Empire declared war. We were then recruited into Section 31 by your brother, I was promoted to Captain, the _Enterprise_ recommissioned, and our orders issued. We have, to this date, engaged in numerous skirmishes with Klingon forces and have responded with efficient and acceptable levels of force, the latest of which you yourself have just witnessed."

Jim's blank expression shifted the moment Sam was mentioned.

"You listed to _Sam_?" He exploded. "Are you kidding me? What the hell were you thinking?"

Spock was unaware of how he came to have moved across the room, or why his hands were wrapped around Jim's arms, pressing him hard against the wall. "I was thinking you were dead." He snarled, all but vibrating with anger. "Do you understand what that means? Do you have any comprehension at all for the hurt you have caused the people you claim to care for? Your crew is broken, Jim. They look to me to heal their wounds when I am perhaps the most broken of them all. The man you love as a brother is only sober because lives depend on him being so, and his child blames herself for her uncle's death." Spock's words did what his actions had not, and he could tell from the widening of Jim's eyes that they were finding their target with ruthless precision.

"Spock, I-"

"You will be silent!" Spock's voice cracked on his words as six weeks of rage and heartbreak found an outlet. He realized in that moment that he'd not done as he promised himself he would, and hear Jim speak before passing judgement, but he had given the human the opportunity and there was no stopping Spock now. "You will accept the consequences of your actions, Jim."

"That's what I am trying to do!" Jim yelled, animation flaring to life amidst the hurt Spock had caused with his words.

"You lied to us. You manipulated the love the doctor and I have for you to betray our trust. You had every chance to come to us for help, to treat us as the family I believed we were becoming, and you showed you clearly have no regard for either our feelings for you or anything else." Perhaps that was what hurt the very most.

"It wasn't like that, please Spock, you have to believe me. I would never have gone if I knew that's what they would do. I wouldn't hurt you that way, none of you." The earnest, pleading look in Jim's eyes failed to move him.

"But you would have willingly placed your safety in their hands had your murder not been their main agenda." Spock accused. "What did you expect them to do to you, Jim? What did you expect us to do? Leave you to them? Move on with our lives without you in them?"

"No, I-"

"What, Jim? What did you hope to accomplish with your selfishness?"

Where Jim found the strength or energy to push Spock back, he did not know, but the explosion of kinetic energy freed Jim from Spock's grasp and he stumbled a few steps away, his chest heaving.

"I'm sorry , Spock, I really am. None of this was supposed to happen." Instead of the anger Spock expected after such a show of force, Jim merely seemed weary. The dead weight in his eyes pinned Spock in place with the enormity of the things he had seen and done.

Suddenly, Spock felt ashamed, as he frequently did when his emotions escaped the tight control he attempted to maintain. He unclenched his fists and attempted to reign in the threat of his physical presence. No matter the reasons for his actions, Jim had most likely not been out of enemy territory since his initial imprisonment and Spock owed him more than an attack.

"Forgive me." He said stiffly. "You require medical attention."

Jim shook his head. "I told you-"

"You'll find I'm not particularly inclined to believe a word you say. Clearly you have no compunction or difficulty in lying to me."

That, he realized as soon as he spoke, was crossing a line. Jim's expression shifted rapidly from hurt to frosty blankness.

"You're the Captain." He said, matching Spock's cool tone with one of his own.

Spock's shoulders stiffened. "Indeed." He held out an arm in indication for Jim to lead on. "We will see to your injuries and you will explain how you came to be on that ship."

Jim smiled sardonically. "And what's to stop me lying again?"

Spock knew his expression gave away none of his thoughts. "I am Vulcan. Your voice might deceive me. Your mind will not." Jim's expression curdled in anger. "Shall we?"

He didn't need to read Jim's mind to know exactly what response he was being given.

* * *

McCoy was not, despite his words, in sickbay. M'benga was.

"It's good to see you, Jim." He said warmly. Jim's answering smile was warm, but it struck Spock painfully in the chest regardless. Why could he not say the same? Why was his joy and relief so overshadowed by the ugliness of his own pain. "Take a seat."

Jim did as he was told, looking over his shoulder as he shrugged out of his heavy overcoat. "Where's Bones? He digging out the really big hypos?"

M'benga would not meet either of their gazes. "Doctor McCoy will not be your physician, Jim. I will."

Jim somehow managed to look confused, clearly not understanding what was being said to him. Spock said nothing, understanding McCoy's decision but knowing exactly how much pain it would cause.

"But Bones is always my doctor." Jim said as if simply stating that the sky was blue.

"You aren't currently on file as Captain of this ship." M'benga said regretfully. "He's not obligated to treat you when another qualified physician is in attendance."

Jim was an intelligent man. He could read between the lines.

"He's refusing to treat me, isn't he?"

"Like I said, a CMO is not obligated-" M'benga looked utterly miserable.

Jim shook his head sharply. "Don't. Just get on with it." Not looking at either of them, he forcefully dragged his shirt over his head, revealing a bruise by bruise picture of all he had endured while away.

Spock's breath caught in his throat at the sight, "Jim-"

"Shouldn't you be overseeing repairs?" Jim snapped. "You break my ship you can at least fix her up." Jim's response was something Spock might have expected from him a year ago, but was desperately lacking his usually brutal accuracy with his insults. It fell flat and hung between them, backed by the quiet beep of a medical tricorder.  
Spock nodded. "I will return in an hour. I expect you still to be here."

Jim clenched his jaw angrily, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and remained pointedly silent.

Spock left sickbay feeling no better than he had that morning when he had still believed Jim dead. He couldn't understand how that had happened. He should be happy. He should be embracing Jim and overseeing his care as McCoy fretted. That was how they worked.

But he had not been lying when he'd told Jim that he was broken. They all were, and how were three broken men supposed to be a whole when all they could do was cause each other pain?

Trusting Sulu to call if his presence was required, Spock turned and headed to McCoy's quarters.


	14. Chapter 14

It's utterly fascinating seeing where everyone sits on the 'yell at Jim' fence. I love hearing your thoughts, I really do, so thank you! All I am really going to say on the subject is that while Jim is the central character, I have always aimed to give the others their own motivations and needs that aren't directly related to his own. In other words, not everything is about Jim, even when it kinda is!

* * *

McCoy sat on the edge of his bed, a full glass of brandy in his hand. He had stopped by sickbay as he told Spock he would and overseen the three mild injuries that had resulted from the skirmish with the Klingon ship, as well as checking up on the patients still in recovery from their last battle. He wasn't sure if the limited severity of the latest intakes were due to their growing experience at riding out increasingly aggressive attacks, or just luck. Either way, he was grateful. He'd lost far too many good people in the last few weeks.

With less to do to occupy his mind than he had hoped, McCoy had been uncharacteristically uncertain as he wandered around medical, finally prompting M'benga and Chapel to bully him off duty. They had promised to call him when Jim finally showed up for treatment, still in a mild state of shock following Sulu's announcement to the crew only moments prior. It had been obvious that they had all wanted to talk to McCoy about it, and equally obvious that doing so would have been a poor idea.

McCoy had still been shaking, his fist sore and stiff after hitting Jim so hard. He had shaken his head and as firmly as he could told them both that he would not, _could_ not, be Jim's attending physician, and that they were not to refer his case to McCoy unless it was an emergency.

He'd expected them to argue, but they did not, and McCoy had wandered in a fugue state back to his quarters and poured himself a stiff drink.

He'd yet to actually drink it. He could be incredibly aggressive when drunk, something both him and Jim knew all too well. It all depended on his mood going in, and he'd not felt anything close to happiness since that night when Jim had looked him in the eye and fooled him so easily.

McCoy thought about that night a lot and he knew Spock did too.

He remembered Jim's tears as he'd left Joanna's room. He should have know then. _He should have known._

So yes, he blamed himself for not seeing, not _doing_ something.

But he blamed Jim too. He blamed Jim for a lot of things, many of which he had no right at all to do.

And god, he'd hit Jim. He'd hurt someone deliberately and because he was angry, and it wasn't even the first time he'd done so. Not even the first time with Jim. He knew it was inexcusable, he knew he had no right at all to act the way had, but he'd done it all the same. What kind of person did that make him?

What was worse, he also knew that his actions would never be brought up by Jim again. He'd be allowed to get away with it, as he had in the past, and he'd be so goddamn grateful. Hell, he knew Jim well enough to know that the kid would sooner McCoy hit him than handle the distance that had grown between them in the wake of Jim's actions. That was how Jim functioned. He could take any physical hurt thrown his way and would gladly do so if it spared wound to a heart far more sensitive than he'd ever admit.

McCoy refusing to treat him would hurt him deeply. It would probably undo much, if not all, of the work McCoy had spent five years doing.

His doorbell chimed. It was Spock. It had to be. No one else had the guts to approach him these days. Even Uhura, Sulu and Scotty had gotten the message that he wanted to be left alone. Riley and Chekov had always been too intimidated by him to make more than a tentative attempt.

Spock however was neither intimidated, nor interested in McCoy's melancholia. He entered without waiting for permission, and sat himself down on the chair at his desk.

"Didn't dream that, did I?" McCoy gruffly asked after a few moments of silence.

"I am afraid not." Spock replied.

"So what the hell do we do now?"

"I do not know." Spock admitted softly.

McCoy stared down into his glass. "He tell you what happened?"

"I-I did not ask." Spock's voice was soft as he spoke. "I am ashamed to say I allowed my emotions to get the better of me."

"You punch him in the face?" McCoy asked darkly.

Spock shook his head. "I did not. I perhaps caused greater injury with the words I spoke."

Tossing down the brandy, McCoy then rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Damn."

"Indeed." Spock agreed. "I do not understand the way I feel. Should we not be rejoicing in Jim's safe return?"

"Welcome to the human psyche, Mr Spock." McCoy snorted. "We're a jumble of contradictory and highly illogical emotions."

"I find it most distasteful." Spock frowned. "We should be relieved our friend is alive, not angry at his presence."

McCoy was at a loss as to how best to explain. He thought back, trying to find a more simple, condensed version of the feelings they were both experiencing. No surprises, Jim was the focus of that as well. "First year at the Academy," he started to explain, "We didn't really know each other well, but we got on. We were both older than most of the other cadets in our class, both misfits. We sort of gravitated to each other. I wasn't even sure what I was doing there and Jim was no better, though I at least had the benefit of already having my M.D. Jim was...well he was a goddamn pain in the ass, you know?"

"Indeed." Spock said wryly.

McCoy couldn't help smile. Jim had driven everyone crazy. "He didn't have an easy time of it, that first year. Everyone wanted him to flunk out for whatever reason. They were jealous, they didn't like his attitude, some combination of the two. We weren't sharing a room at the time. We were both in separate dorms. But we'd meet up and study, or have lunch, grab a drink, whatever. Took me about three months before I even realized why he'd hang with me and not his other classmates."

"They did not like him." Spock surmised.

"Not all of them. Jim's a likable guy when he's not being a dick, but he pissed off just enough of the wrong guys...got himself into some pretty bad fights and didn't tell anyone about it. Managed to puncture his lung one time and pass out on me in the mess hall." McCoy remembered how scared he'd been when Jim had lost consciousness...and how angry he'd been when he'd learned why. "Gave him merry hell for it when he came round. Hell, you've seen us. He breaks himself, I fix him up and chew him out...and the cycle repeats."

"Forgive me, but I am not following your point." Spock looked lost.

McCoy shrugged. "Point is Jim does shit like that. That's who he is. He doesn't mean any harm by it, doesn't do it maliciously or selfishly."

"But it angers you none the less." Spock said in understanding.

"Damn right it does." McCoy sighed. "And god knows I should be glad he's alive. But-" McCoy dug the heels of his palms into his dry, tired eyes. "I don't feel anything. I love that damn kid likes he's my own brother and I don't feel a damn thing. What the hell kind of person does that make me?"

"I once believed it better not to feel, as you do not feel now." Spock said quietly. "I told myself that in doing so I was free from distractions or weakness but in truth I was protecting myself. Now I fear I cannot stop. I desire nothing more than to feel nothing as I once did. I do not like the man I am now, but neither do I recognize the man I was then."

McCoy laughed bitterly. "Well ain't we a pair?"

Spock inclined his head. "Why did you refuse to treat Jim yourself? We both know you will be demanding a full report from M'benga. I do not believe that even your current numbness extends to an apathy towards Jim's physical condition."

"Of course I care." McCoy didn't even have the energy to raise his voice. "I can't believe I am talking to you of all people about this." Spock raised a slightly mocking eyebrow that instantly made McCoy feel better. "I can't be his doctor, Spock. Not right now. I'm," he laughed bitterly, "emotionally fucking compromised by the little shit."

"Has that not always been the case?" Spock frowned.

McCoy glared at him. "You know how many ethics violations I've made for Jim? How many times I've gone against my oath? And I'd do it again, Spock. All of it. Fixing him up, bring him back from the dead of all goddamn things. I'd do it again. Most of it, anyway."

"You refer to the Nanites. He forgave you for that, did he not?"

"Of course he did. He's Jim. He'll forgive me for hitting him, too. Just like he'll forgive all of us for the fact that right now we want to wring his goddamn neck. That's what he does. He loves you so he'll let you treat him like crap. That's the problem, Spock. That's why I can't treat him." He could tell Spock was not following his thought process and growled in anger. "Look, thinking rationally, logically, all the scientific processes you love so much... Is what happened Jim's fault?"

Spock was silent for a long moment. "No. No it was not." And it wasn't. Jim had not been fit to make any decisions about his own health and well being. He certainly had not been fit to try and navigate the violative waters he had been left in.

McCoy nodded his head. "So we agree that what happened wasn't his fault. But do you blame him for it anyway?"

"It would not be log-"

"Damnit Spock! Do. You. _Blame him?"_

McCoy had slowly gotten used to the all too human look Spock sometimes adopted in his dark, alien eyes. Right now it was one of confusion, guilt and pain. "I do." He admitted so softly McCoy barely heard him.

Slumping down, McCoy raised his head in agreement, "So do I. I blame him for it, and a part of me hates him for it and if I went to him now he'd take all that and shoulder it. I can't do that to him, Spock. I won't."

Spock remained silent for several minutes, leaving McCoy to his tumulus thoughts. "You seek to protect him. You understand that this is not the way to do so? He will take this as a rejection."

"I know." McCoy said, aching. He knew Jim better than anyone. "But it's better than the alternative. He's come so damn far, Spock. We were just starting to get it into that thick skull of his that all the shit he's been through wasn't his damn fault...I can't be the one to mess that up."

He could tell his thoughts were troubling Spock, but that was nothing on the mess that McCoy had made in his head. "You must tell him that." Spock said urgently. "Leonard, please. You must communicate your thoughts with him."

"I just told you," McCoy protested. He couldn't help Jim when he was so broken himself. Not without taking them both further down a dark path that neither of them would emerge from whole.

"I understand. I believe Jim will also. But I know you both, Leonard. Trust me when I say that if you let this lapse in silence, thee will be nothing to return to when you are finally ready." That was what McCoy was afraid of. That if he stayed away for too long, or went too far, Jim would not be there by the time he was able to pull himself together. "Take a leap of faith, my friend."

McCoy nodded reluctantly. "What about you?"

Spock let out an unusually morose sigh. "I cannot stop feeling, as much as I wish I could. I am half human, and it shows now more than ever. But I do believe that I am the best half human I can be when Jim is at my side."

McCoy nodded. They both needed different things to heal. Spock needed Jim at his side. McCoy needed to remember how to be McCoy when he wasn't being Bones. When Jim had been absent, neither option was viable. Now though...

"I'll talk to him." McCoy promised. Spock stood. "Fine. I'll talk to him now. Damn hobgoblin."

"Thank you." Spock looked grateful. "I believe it is human tradition to ask how I might provide you comfort or support."

"You could let me give Sam Kirk the Bavarian Plague."

"A most pleasing notion." Spock agreed, following McCoy out into the hallway. "That is another matter of concern. Winona Kirk."

"Really?" McCoy snorted, "because I'd have said that would be the easiest of our dilemmas." Spock frowned in question and McCoy rolled his eyes. "Jim's been hoarding up the issues with those two for years. Just put all three of them in a room together. Easier than therapy and I'm pretty sure there will be at least one fatality."

"Am I correct in assuming you wish that to be Samuel?"

"Damn right." McCoy growled. "He knew Jim was alive and chose not to mention it."

Spock's expression darkened. "I had momentarily forgotten that fact."

"Bavarian plague." McCoy said grimly. "Can't think of a nastier way to go."

"I can." Spock said as they rode the lift up to medical. At McCoy's confused frown, he twitched a smile that was entirely influenced by his captain. "Jim Kirk."


	15. Chapter 15

I won't lie. I've been neurotically nervous about the current Bones/Spock/Jim dynamic. And by neurotically nervous what I really mean is that I occasionally curl up in a ball and wail '_oh god, they hate it, I've ruined everything, waahaa'_. Then I remember why I made the call to go the way I have. It's not been easy to write, and I know it hasn't been easy to read, and I feel incredibly privileged that you've let me explore this current change in dynamic, especially when I know how unpopular that decision has been with some of you. So thank you, really. Thank you for trusting me, and hanging in there. I hope the last few chapters haven't turned you away: I know some of you have been with me from the very start of the series and I'd hate to think I'd spoiled all the time you have invested in the characters. Still, I have to stand by the choices I have made with the story, and the reasons I made them, and I hope you continue to find some enjoyment.

Long winded note is long winded. The Kirk vs Kirk Vs Kirk showdown looms on the horizon, but until then, have some Jim. Xx

* * *

"Jim? Jim, are you with me?" The gentle voice tugged at the edge of Jim's flagging consciousness and jerked him back to reality. He blinked open his eyes and looked up at M'benga's concerned face.

"Hmm. Shit, sorry. What did I miss?" Absently rubbing the back of his neck, Jim rolled his shoulders and winced. God, he ached.

Still sat shirtless on the edge of a private bed, Jim shivered slightly in the cool sickbay. M'benga had done an admirable job of patching up the various cuts and bruises he'd accumulated over the past few weeks and overall, he felt a whole lot better than he had done that morning. Physically, at least. He hadn't really realized how much the accumulation of hurts had simply become a normal element of his life until they were taken away. Now he felt light, almost floaty, and bone tired.

He knew the pattern well enough by now. He was very good at maintaining an almost indefinite level of endurance, but when he found some place he felt safe enough in to let his guard down, he crashed. It was hard to keep his eyes open and he desperately wanted to sleep. The war could wait. Starfleet could wait. They owed him that much at least.

"I asked if you wanted a sedative." M'benga repeated himself.

Jim shook his head. He didn't need one. Give him a flat surface and he'd be out. He had another twenty four hours before he needed to check in with his handler, and he planned on spending twenty three and a half of them sleeping. "No thanks. I'm good."

Jim couldn't remember the last doctor he'd allowed to treat him other than McCoy. Not counting Kodos's crazy physician. Chapel had been the only other person to really handle any of his physical injuries, usually after a skirmish when McCoy was in surgery or treating someone else.

He didn't really like it, truth be told. There wasn't an inch of him that McCoy hadn't poked, prodded or scowled at over the past five years - including a prostate exam that Jim had filed firmly under Did Not Happen. He trusted Bones, had done right from the start. Other people had come with warning bells, even Pike, who had never raised a hand to him and never would have. Jim had defenses sky high, and McCoy had barged right through them like a bull in a china shop. He'd had Jim's trust before he'd done anything to earn it. M'benga, who was a nice guy - nicer than McCoy, for that matter- and a highly competent doctor, still made Jim's skin crawl.

But he kept quiet, and when M'benga was finally done, he settled down on the bed and waited for Spock to return. He knew they needed to talk. He needed to be debriefed, if nothing else. So much had happened since the night Archer had called him in. He felt like he'd aged ten years, possibly more. The gambles they had made were still unfolding their consequences, and many of them were unpleasant.

He wasn't sure the end was even in sight any more, and he needed a minute...just a minute...to rest before he regrouped and made his next move.

So he waited, and he tried to sleep.

Jim blinked open his eyes as a gentle hand smoothed over his skull. He'd had this dream before but not for the longest time, and couldn't help but smile up at the blue eyes looking down at him.

"Oh Jimmy, what have you been doing to yourself?" Jim sighed and leaned into the touch of his mom's cool, gentle hands. This was how he liked to remember her best, when it was easy to pretend that she loved him as much as she loved Sam. He made a soft sound of noncommittal and closed his eyes. "You're hiding again, Jimmy." She chided him gently. "Didn't we talk about that?"

"Hmm."

"You look terrible, kiddo." Winona smiled at him. "You haven't been taking care of yourself."

Jim knew exactly how bad he looked. He hardly recognized himself. "Have too." He protested sleepily. She cocked an eyebrow teasingly. "Have Bones." He pointed out. And he did. Bones did a far better job of looking after Jim than Jim did himself.

His mom continued to smile at him and a part of him never wanted to wake up. He loved her like this and it was okay for him to do so. When she was angry or distant or cold, it was hard to justify the adoration he had for her, but in the moments between... when she was his mom... god, he loved her so much. "Yeah but you screwed that up, didn't you Jimmy? He can't even look at you any more."

"That's just Bones." Jim protested, "he's sensitive, he gets angry that's all. He just needs some time. I trust him."

"Do you?"

Jim shifted on the bed, suddenly uncomfortable.

"He's my friend." Jim tried to explain.

She looked so sad for him. "Sweetheart, you don't have friends. You don't need them."

"I do. I'm better with them."

"You're weaker." His mom said gently. "Just look at you."

Jim blinked, her face blurring, and something cold and sharp ran down his spine. Something wasn't right. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to wake up. The hands that suddenly touched his cheek were too cool, too real. "Mom?" Opening his eyes wide, Jim scrambled back on the biobed.

"Where's the dexilithium, Jimmy?" She asked, her hand wrapping around his wrist tightly.

Jim's mouth opened in shock and he stared down at her hand. Her grip hurt. Not the phantom ache of pain that flowed through his dreams, but the edges of her nails pinched his skin, sharp and terrifyingly real. "_Mom_?"

She leaned forward, the warmth and the softness Jim had loved about her shifting into the cool, clipped tones of his memories, tinged with an urgency he'd not heard from her before. "Where is it, Jim? What happened?"

Jim wrenched his hand from her grip. He wasn't eleven any more. He was taller than her, stronger than her. He wasn't scared or obedient or so desperate for her affection he'd follow blindly in her wake, cherishing each casually discarded sliver of her care.

He wasn't.

"Damnit, Jim. I don't have time for your hysterics. The dexilithium. What did you do with it?"

Jim couldn't even begin to cope with the thoughts that had begun to swirl in his head. Where did he even start?

"Hey, what do you think you we doing in here?" M'benga's sharp voice cut through Jim's rising panic as he barged into the private room, no doubt summoned by Jim's rapidly shifting vital signs. His intrusion startled Winona, who had been entirely focused on Jim, and it was enough to buy him a second of leeway.

He snatched his arm from her grip and ran.

He made it out of sickbay and into the corridor, blindly seeking some place to take refuge from the crumbling cascade of emotions that were trying to overwhelm him.

Her sharply turned the corner and skidded into a turbo lift

-right into the solid chest of McCoy.

Jim didn't even try struggle. A subconscious part of his mind screamed safety and he latched on to it violently as raised voices followed him from down the hall.

McCoy grunted as they collided, automatically stabilizing them both as their balance shifted. "Jim? Jesus what happened?"

Jim said nothing, unable to find the words he needed.

He heard his mom calling his name. _His mom was calling his name..._

"Aw shit. _Shit_. Damnit Spock, how the hell did she get out? Jim? Come on kid, calm down. Easy now."

Jim wasn't calming down. He didn't want to calm down.

He vaguely heard Spock leaving the lift to intercept his mom and the medical staff who had followed them out into the corridor, but was more focused on the weight of the arms that suddenly latched tightly around him, pulling him into the seclusion and safety of the lift and shouldering his sagging weight.

He was hyperventilating violently and he knew if he didn't get his breathing under control he'd pass out, but he couldn't even start it find a calm place the way Bones had taught him to and the whole words was crumbling apart around him.

His knees gave out and Bones helped him down to the ground, pulling him firmly into his arms and rubbing his back soothingly. "I got you, Jim. You're okay. I'm here. Easy. You need to calm down, kid. Deep breaths. Come on now, you can do it." He only heard half of what Bones was saying, and it wasn't enough. His head began to pound as his vision swam.

"Bones." He choked. Bones was holding on to him as if he hadn't turned away from Jim. Like he used to, back before Jim had ruined everything. "Please don't leave." Jim begged. He was okay with begging. He'd done it before and Bones wasn't cruel the way some people were. He wouldn't string Jim along. He'd go now, or he'd stay for good.

Bones swore under his breath and clutched him tighter until they could match their breathing. "I'm not going anywhere kid. Just take a deep breath. I'm sorry, Jesus I'm so sorry, we shouldn't have left you alone."

Jim shook his head, his panic slowly easing with every steady exhale. "I wasn't dreaming was I? My mom's alive?"

"This wasn't how I wanted you to find out, kid. I'm sorry. Turns out you Kirks are hard to kill." McCoy's lip curled up into a weak smile and he reached out to brush the dampness from Jim's cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Bones." Jim whispered.

"Don't." McCoy shook his head. "We'll talk, Jim. Later."

"But-"

"Are you alright, Jim?" They both looked up as Spock appeared in the open door of the lift.

"I need a fucking vacation." Jim tried to make light of the fact that he was curled on the floor clinging to his friend like a scared child.

Bones nudged him with his shoulder. "I hear Delta Vega is good this time of year."

"It's actually tempting." Jim said, pulling himself together and scrubbing the tears from his face. "I should hate that you guys always see me at my worst."

"Yeah well, we've seen you at your best, too. Kinda balances out." Bones said, helping him to his feet. "You know I came down here to tell you that I needed some space to clear my head and you collide with me at high speed."

"I'm sorry." Jim said, his throat swelling at the thought.

"Don't be." Bones shook his head. "Spock's right. We're better together. We need to talk. The three of us. But right now we've got Klingons trying to kill us, a ship held together by the prayers of a drunk Scotsman and your batshit crazy mom is even harder to keep in a cell than your equally batshit brother. I think our issues can wait."

"You are the most contrary human." Spock said exasperatedly.

"Hey, he just agreed with you." Jim pointed out, his energy quickly resorting itself now Spock and Bones were at his side and didn't seem to be leaving.

"I'm not saying we're okay." McCoy shook his head. "We aren't. Not even a little." Jim couldn't help the way he reached out to grab McCoy's arm, his fear spiking again. Bones cringed and took Jim's arm in his hand, "we will be, kid. When this is done, we are going to he really goddamn drunk and have at it."

"Okay." Jim said, his voice small. "That...I really didn't mean to-"

"Jim," McCoy turned the same tone of voice on him that he sometimes used on Joanna when she was deliberately not listening to what he was saying. "Remember when I told you that you're my brother, and I love you?" Jim nodded carefully. He remembered. "Well brothers piss each other off sometimes. And they say and do stupid things that hurt one another. Families do that."

"I know that." Jim said sullenly. "See exhibit a." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where he imagined his mom was still being detained.

"That's blood kid, not family. This," McCoy pointed to himself and Spock, then Jim, "this is family. Difference is we don't abandon each other just because things get tough." Spock and McCoy shared a long look that was broken by a pleased expression on Spock's face and an eye roll from McCoy. "What do you want from me, Spock? I've already admitted you are right once today. That's your damn quota for the month."

"I've miss you guys." Jim admitted softly. "Even the bickering."

Spock stepped forwards and placed a hand on Jim's shoulder. "We have missed you also. Forgive me for not making that clear to you the moment you returned to us."

Jim forcibly swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled shakily. "So...my mom's not dead."

"Indeed." Spock said, settling back into his usual position of rest.

"And Sam is still a fucking asshole."

"One hundred percent." Bones said dryly. "You got a plan, kid?"

Jim nodded. Oh he had a plan alright, and the end? Suddenly back in sight. "Yep."

"Will I approve?" Spock sighed.

"Do you ever?"

"I was afraid you would say that. Very well, please enlighten us."

Jim turned to Bones and grinned. "Punch me in the face again."


	16. Chapter 16

I love you guys. You are awesome.

And I am rushed off my feet. Don't go on vacation: it screws with work and your social life and takes twice as long as you took off to actually smooth over. I'm so, so sorry to those of you I owe messages to! Come Monday and I'll actually get to spend more than twenty minutes on my computer Not doing work and I promise I'll catch up and stop being so sucky!

Now, onward to plot, which is about to take a Jim infused turn towards madness… enjoy!

* * *

"I'm not punching you in the face!" McCoy yelped the second the comment had left Jim's mouth.

"Why not?" Jim frowned at him, as if he had asked a perfectly reasonable thing.

"Because you look like something a shelat hacked up. After it mauled you. Repeatedly." McCoy looked him up and down, pleased to see M'benga had cleaned him up but distinctly unimpressed by his overall appearance. He refused to look at the thick scar that curled around his throat, unconcealed by the lower neck of the white medical shirt he'd pulled on.

Jim pulled a face. "Oh come on, I don't look that bad."

"I'm afraid you do." Spock came to McCoy's side with his own concerned frown.

"Fine." Jim huffed. "Be difficult. I'm assuming she's out?"

McCoy could only imagine Jim was talking about Winona, and Spock nodded. "I applied pressure to the bundle of nerves that causes-"

"You did you ninja Vulcan thing." Jim interrupted. "Good. That hurts like a bitch. Sam still in lock up?"

"He is in the brig." Spock confirmed. "It was difficult finding volunteers to guard him that I did not fear would cause him harm." Spock said reluctantly.

McCoy growled. "You say it like he doesn't deserve it."

"Actually," Jim said hesitantly, not looking either of them in the eye, "he might not."

"Excuse me?" McCoy snapped. As far as he was concerned he'd been right not to trust Sam and owed the bastard a whole world of hurt. "He knew you were alive and he said nothing. He let us grieve for you, Jim. He let my seven year old daughter cry for her uncle." Jim flinched at the mention of Joanna but still shook his head.

"I'm not excusing that," Jim said hastily, "I'm really not, but I need you to be objective here for a second Bones, please. What could he possibly gain from you not knowing I'm alive?"

"The Captain, does, I reluctantly admit, have a point." Spock did not look pleased. "He must have known his rouse would not have been maintainable in the long run."

"Exactly." Jim nodded, then turned to look curiously at Spock. "And I'm not Captain any more, Spock. You are."

"You are _my_ Captain." Spock said firmly.

Jim gaped at him, then visibly forced down a lump in his throat. "Thanks." He whispered, then clearing his throat loudly he continued. "Look, I need to talk to him."

"With your fists?" McCoy said hopefully.

Jim shot him a look that was all fondness and McCoy couldn't explain why his eyes grew misty. "No Bones."

"Pity." Spock said before McCoy could.

Jim eyed them both. "You know this whole agreeing thing is starting to freak me out."

"Good." McCoy said bluntly. "Now let's go see your brother. Then you can tell us exactly where you've been and what you've been doing because I have a feeling that's going to be a doozy."

Jim's smile was shaky but genuine. "Yeah." He said softly. "Something like that."

* * *

They were on their way down to the brig when several voices intercepted them from the corridor and a fleet of bodies came stampeding towards them.

McCoy stepped to one side, a hand on Jim's back in support as Uhura flung her arms around his neck, while Carol, Riley, Chekov and Sulu hung back, no less pleased to see him but just about containing themselves.

"You absolute asshole." Uhura sobbed, clinging to Jim's neck. "I hate you so fucking much." McCoy had never actually heard her use language like that before. She usually preferred more eloquence. Still, he understood the need. It seemed they had maintained their professionalism on the bridge either out of shock or duty, but now there was no holding them back.

"I hate you too." Jim said softly, stroking her hair back with one hand and reaching out his other to squeeze Carol's. "Did you get more beautiful when I was gone?" He teased gently.

Uhura cried harder. "You're a bastard Jim Kirk." She snapped at him, her voice buried against his neck. "I swear to god, you pull something like that again I'll drop you out of an airlock."

"No dying, got it." Jim nodded obediently.

"You going for a record or something, Kirk?" Sulu asked, a wide, open smile about as demonstrative as he got.

Jim spoke over Uhura's shoulder, his own smile warm and happy. "I gotta be good for it by now, surely?"

"I think there was a man in Tibet who-" Riley started, only to be kicked by Chekov, who couldn't quite hide his tears.

"Don't encourage him." McCoy growled.

"You gonna let go of me?" Jim asked Uhura gently, still stroking her back.

She shook her head. "You gonna do something stupid if I do?"

"Probably." Jim admitted.

"Then no."

"Okay, well this might get a little awkward, but I guess we can work around it." Jim teased her gently.

"I don't really hate you." Uhura said softly.

"I know."

"I mean, sometimes I really want to hit you a whole lot."

"Meh, I don't take things like that personally." Jim shrugged.

"And sometimes I feel like screaming at you because you're an idiot." She continued.

"I'm reliably informed of that." Jim agreed.

"But I don't hate you. Even if you did make me cry while I'm on duty."

Jim carefully peeled her back a few inches and kissed her forehead. "I don't hate you either. And I promise not to tell if you don't."

She smiled shakily and rubbed her tears away, her eyeliner still staying miraculously perfect. "I mean it though. Airlock."

"I am fully cognizant of the peril that will befall me should I prove to be even halfway close to dying again." Jim announced seriously.

"We're going to pull straws." Riley said flatly. "Winner gets to be the one to push you out."

"There's a draw on who throws me out of an airlock." Jim shook his head bemusedly. "That probably shouldn't please me as much as it does."

"It's love." Carol smiled at him. "Very violent love," she amended, "but the sentiment is there."

"Damn right." Sulu muttered.

"You know if I'm dead is there really any point in throwing me out into space?" Jim suddenly frowned.

Several voices answered him at once. "Yes!"

Jim quickly nodded, proving once again that he was as smart. "Got it. Now, if you Captain is agreeable, you want to come with me to see my darling brother? I really don't want to have to tell this story twice."

They all looked at Spock for a response. "Jim, as I have said, you are now, and always will be my Captain. With you safely returned to us, the Enterprise will accept no other as her commanding officer." He turned suddenly to Sulu, "Forgive me, I am aware your promotion-"

"No offence, sir." Sulu cut in dryly. "But I'm a pilot. I'll fly this lady any place you want her to go, but if this means I never have to sign another acquisition report again, I'll go to my grave a happy man."

"I miss you guys." Jim grinned at them all, truth in his eyes clear for them all to see.

"We didn't miss you." Uhura said, standing tall and proud once again.

"Liar." Jim grinned. "Shall we?" He held out an arm and pointed towards the turbolifts. Together, they made their way to the brig, united, whole, and ready to take on anyone who threatened to change that.

* * *

"You look like shit." Sam greeted his brother with a lazy smile. "That Kor's work?"

"Some of it." Jim strolled right up to his brother's cell, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world. Spock and McCoy flanked him, while the others remained a few paces behind. "Not all."

"He's dead then?" Sam asked, leaning back against the wall.

"Fucker tried to blow me up. Which, _rude_." Jim shrugged. "Figured that was a tip he got from you."

"Ouch. Low blow, little brother."

"I can go lower." Jim threatened darkly. "Or hell, let's just get right on to the elephant in the room."

"That's no way to talk about our mother, Jimmy." Sam said.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Like you haven't called her worse."

"True." Sam agreed. "She's consistently a bitch if nothing else."

"You get my message?" Jim asked him, throwing the non sequiter in suddenly. Sam kept up. McCoy guessed he was the only one.

"I did." Sam nodded. "You could have been a little more prompt with it. Very nearly ended up a whole lot messier."

"I'd had my throat cut on live holo only a few hours earlier." Jim snapped. "I was kinda winging it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan a military coup minus several pints of blood? Especially when it's a coup against _another coup?_" Jim yelled in annoyance.

"Well you are the genius in the family." Sam pointed out casually.

"That's hardly saying much!" Jim snorted. "Exactly how long did it take mom to have you eating out the palm of her hand? An hour? Ten minutes?"

"About a week, actually." Sam said coolly, "which is a whole lot less than I imagined it would be."

"And you didn't think I maybe had the right to know?" Jim growled.

"I think you'd _just_ been tortured by Kodos and I didn't want to stress you out any more!" Sam dropped his laid back act, leaned forward and yelled right back at his brother. "Jesus, Jim. What exactly was I supposed to say during all those conversations you wouldn't let me have with you?"

"I swear to god, you say this shit is my fault I'm breaking your goddamn jaw." Jim snarled, making McCoy flinch in shame. "I'm seriously supposed to believe you only found out then? You were working for 31 ever since Marcus died. You had to be. You showed up with a dozen of them in Scotland."

"Okay, _working for_ does not mean _privy to all their fucking secrets."_ Sam pointed out angrily. "I got a visit, so did my team, and we signed on the dotted line."

McCoy expected the argument to escalate and wasn't really sure how best to intercept two very angry brothers. Then Jim simply relaxed his shoulders and nodded.

"Okay, good." He said, surprising them all.

"Good?" Sulu echoed.

"You're so goddamn dramatic, little brother." Sam slumped back down against the wall and continued to relax.

"It's triggered by stupidity." Jim shot back, less heat in his voice. "Thanks, by the way. For not telling them."

"Are you kidding me?" McCoy exploded. Jim ignored him.

"No problem." Sam shrugged.

"What the hell, Jim?" McCoy grabbed his arm angrily. "Why are you thanking him? Did you _know-_"

"No." Jim said firmly. "I thought you knew, but given the way things turned out…I'm glad you didn't." They gaped at him in hurt and he quickly shook his head. "I'm sorry it happened this way, I am. And I swear to god I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, all of you, but in the circumstances, you not knowing was a whole lot safer."

"He's right." Sam said.

"Shut up!" McCoy's angry words were echoed by several other voices, including Jim.

"Trying to help!" Sam said innocently.

"Don't." Jim glared at him. "When you help I inevitably end up bleeding."

"Jim, please." Spock said softly, "help us understand."

"I'm only just starting to understand myself." Jim said regretfully. "But tell me Bones, seriously… if you'd known I was still alive, would you have come for me?"

"You know we would." McCoy said, hurt Jim would even ask.

Jim grabbed his hand and squeezed. "And it would have gotten you killed. All of you. So maybe…maybe you not knowing was for the best."

"I can't believe that, Jim. I'm sorry but I can't. At least you wouldn't have been alone."

"I wasn't completely alone." Jim smiled. "I made friends."

"With Klingons?" Sulu didn't look convinced.

Jim grinned. "Hey, I'm a friendly guy. My point is… none of this happened the way it was supposed to and now my mom is back on the scene, I think I know why."

"Care to share with the class?" Sam asked.

Jim turned his back on him and spoke to the rest of them. "Archer and Marlentes called me in after the demand was made."

"You turn yourself in or we go to war?" McCoy clarified.

Jim nodded. "Yes. Archer wanted me to stay. That's why he resigned. Dumb ass move if you asked me. Kormac's a fucking moron."

"No one's seen Archer since you left." Sulu said.

"That's because he's dead." Jim said flatly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Officially, anyway." He added, stilling the panic before it could grow. "He chew you a new one?" He asked his brother.

"Two." Sam rolled his eyes.

"How'd he take the news about mom?"

"Good, actually. I think he's pleased he might get the chance to kill her himself."

Jim snorted and rubbed a hand over his short hair, itching absently. "He can get in line."

"I'm sorry," McCoy shook his head. "Can we please start again, and use simple words for those of us who don't speak Spy?"

Jim looked at Spock. "How long's she going to be out for?"

Spock's answering glare was stony. "Long enough." He said in response.

"Okay," Jim sighed, "so..."


	17. Chapter 17

Answers! That probably aren't going to make huge amounts of sense just yet. Aren't they the best kind? No? damn… will it help if the Jim Vs Winona showdown is looming on the horizon?

On another note, I have had a fair few people ask me about Hanging Wreaths the last couple of weeks. Yes, there will be a holiday special and the story is being rejigged to fit the rest of the series.

* * *

"Start with why you thought it was a good idea to hand yourself over to the Klingons." Sam prompted with a bright smile that instantly sparked in Jim the urge to punch his brother in the face.

He shot Sam a nasty glare. "I never thought it was a good idea." He protested. "I thought it was a terrible idea and I didn't want to do it. And said so. In three different languages. I said 'this is a terrible fucking idea _and I don't want to do it_.'" Not that he'd been listened to.

There was a real trend he'd noticed growing over the last few months, and that was to ignore hi perfectly sound and logical suggestions, because when _Jim_ said something was crazy and to be avoided at all costs, that should really stand for something meaningful.

"Then why did you go?" McCoy asked. Jim knew his friend was trying to understand the calls Jim had made, and as much as it hurt him to know Bones never would, a part of him would always be thankful. Bones wasn't a solider. He never had been and never would be. The lives he was responsible for depended on his own expertise and experience. He didn't need to play the games that Jim did, and he was a far better person for it.

Jim sighed, knowing exactly what the response would be to his next words. "Because they were my orders."

Sure enough, Bones promptly exploded, "Since when do you follow orders?"

"I'm sorry sir, but the Doctor has a point." Sulu said regretfully. "You've never had a problem disobeying before."

"If I think they are wrong, or going to put lives at risk, sure." Jim sighed. "But while I didn't want to do it, and it _was_ a terrible idea, it was also the only one we had, and action needed to be taken. The Klingons wanted me for something. We needed to know what."

"To execute you." Spock said flatly.

Jim shrugged his stiff shoulders helplessly. "Yes, well, it was a risk."

"An unnecessary one." The frost in Spock's tone was distinctly unfriendly and reminiscent of their earlier relationship. He knew the emotional whiplash was doing a number on Spock's control and that was one of the things he regretted the most.

"We took all the precautions we could." Jim protested.

"How is Cy, anyway?" Sam chimed in.

"A lying bastard, no change really." Cy's presence on Qo-NoS had actually been the first thing to tip him off that something more was going on behind the surface. There was no reason at all for him to have been there unless he was being paid to be so, and if it had been legitimate, Archer would have told him. He'd been so surprised to see his old friend that the brutal slash to his throat had caught him completely unaware.

"The pirate's involved in all this?" McCoy growled. "Why am I not surprised?"

Jim shrugged again and fought the urge not to pace. He was still slotting some things in place in his own mind, but talking them through, as new a process as it was for him, actually helped put things in to clarity. "The guy's a mercenary, Bones. He got paid to do a job, that's all."

"Which was?"

"Keep an eye on me."

"Good job he did there!" McCoy yelled angrily.

"And that's why shit like this is so much messier than it needs to be." Jim sighed. "Everyone's got their own agenda. Starfleet and the Klingons wanted me there to prevent a war. Kor, and apparently my mom, had different ideas."

"The Klingons wanted to _prevent_ a war?" Uhura frowned at him in confusion.

Jim nodded carefully. "Most of them, yes."

"Then why try kill you? They declared war on _us_." Uhura asked.

Jim had asked himself the same thing at the time. "I was supposed to escape." He admitted. This was where he went from having agreed to a plan to hand himself over to prevent a war to signing up for a black ops mission behind enemy lines. He knew exactly how it would go down with his crew. "The Empire came to Marlentes during the peace talks with evidence of my actions while attempting to apprehend Khan. And she, in a move I still can't decide if it was either brilliance or stupidity, told them all about Marcus and 31." Sam snorted in his cell. Glaring at him almost felt comforting. "Hey, she was trying to win their trust. It worked. Kinda."

"Until Kor turned out to be a backstabbing traitor?" Sam asked. "I could have told you that."

"And yet you didn't." Jim said waspishly.

"I told mom." Sam pointed out.

"Who is apparently the evil mastermind behind the whole thing!" Jim threw his hands in the air in disgust. "What is it with our family?"

Before Sam could answer, McCoy was cutting in. "No, I'm sorry Jim. I'm still completely fucking lost."

"That's because he's making it more complicated than it is." Sam said with a droll roll of his eyes. "In very basic terms: the Federation and the Empire met to talk peace, and while we have our own warmongering little subdivision of crazy people in Section 31-"

"-of which you are one." Jim pointed out quickly.

"-of which I am one, yes," Sam added, "so do the Klingons. So their cunning little minds hatched this utterly insane plan to get Jim on Qo'noS, thereby saving face for the Klingons who were rightly pissed off that he-"

"-and Khan." Jim crossed his arms over his chest irritably.

"-and Khan, thank you, killed a whole bunch of their warriors, all the while intending to allow Jim to escape so he could ferret out the Klingon factions in league with 31, thereby stopping a war and the loss of countless lives." Sam turned to look at Jim. "Did I miss anything?"

"Only how you ended up getting your throat cut." McCoy said, his temper cooling to something more manageable now he was slowly getting answers.

"Apparently if you can trust a covert military splinter group to do one thing, it's fuck everyone over and Klingons are no different. Turns out they don't like the way 31 do things – and if mom's at the helm I can't say I blame them – and decided they'd cover all their bases by killing me. Pisses off my mom and sets the Federation and the Empire against one another. Fortunately for me, they'd set Kor up as their inside guy and he decided to splinter from his splinter cell and go completely off the reservation. He and Cy came to a mutual agreement which I think involved hitting each other a whole lot and saved my ass."

His crew stared at him in disbelieved. "I told you it's been a crazy few weeks." Jim shrugged helplessly. "If it makes you feel any better I had no goddamn clue what was going on either."

"No, not really." Sulu muttered.

McCoy was shaking his head, having closed the gap between them enough to reach out and touch the scarred flesh at Jim's throat. "He saved you?"

Jim nodded, sympathy for the conflict that clearly tore the Doctor apart. "Apparently my mom sold him pretty high on my 'specific skillsets.' He had his own agenda that was mostly in line with hers by my guessing."

"Up until he tried to kill you." Sam added helpfully.

"I said mostly." Jim scowled.

"Which was?" Spock had joined McCoy in standing close to Jim, so now their shoulders touched and a wave of something close to calm washed over Jim at their presence. They might still be mad at him, they still most likely did not fully understand what had happened or why, but they were together, and if Jim had to face up to any enemy, he wanted to do so with these two men at his side.

Because this enemy? His mom?

Jim couldn't do that alone.

He still loved her. The only way he could possibly hope to stand up to her would be if he had someone he loved more at his back.

He looked to Spock, knowing he would get the seriousness of what Jim was about to tell him faster than McCoy if only because of his own vested interest in the subject.

"The reason I was gone so long," Jim said reluctantly, "31 and the Klingons were working one something big. Kor and I found it. He wanted to use it to destroy the planet, but I think my mom has bigger plans."

"What was it, Jim?"

"Dexalithium." Jim said softly. "They were working on it in one of the labs. Kor tried to blow up the experiment but just now in sickbay, my mom was asking what I did with it."

"Dexalithium." Spock said flatly. "They are attempting to recreate Red Matter."

McCoy was not the only one to swear, but he was by far the loudest.

Jim nodded, knowing where Spock's mind was taking him. "They're a way off. The Vulcans were the only ones with the technology even in the Ambassador's time and he's pretty much killed any research in the field in light of what happened.

He saw Spock swallow in an effort to maintain his composure. "You imply that you removed the crystal following Kor's attempt to detonate it." Jim said nothing. Some things were best not shared. "Jim," Spock warned him, "we must know where it is on order to protect it. That kind of technology cannot be allowed to remain in enemy hands and no matter the cause of the conflict between ourselves, the Klingons _are_ currently our enemies."

"I know." Jim said quietly. "Of course I didn't leave it there."

"Then where-"

"Somewhere safe." Jim said earnestly. "Somewhere she'll never look."

"Jimmy." Sam warned angrily. Jim ignored him.

"So what now?" McCoy asked wearily.

Jim squared his shoulders. "I do what I should have done when all this started." He said softly, looking them both in the eye in turn. "I'm in over my head. I need you to help me. Please."


End file.
